


To Feel The Sun From Both Sides

by Gabethebabe



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Not Beta Read, alexandros and paris are the same person i hope that's explain well enough ok, famous achilles, it was too long ok i want this published and out of my life, librarian patroclus, possessive! Paris, possessive! achilles, softcore editing, this isn't as nice to paris as some of my other storys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabethebabe/pseuds/Gabethebabe
Summary: to love someone and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> this....story took me a whole calendar year to finish...... and it's not even done. 
> 
> okay so to explain a bit bc this is a weird au:  
> Alexandros and Paris are the same person. Alexandros is the greek version of the name Paris (or something like that ok listen it's been a literal year since i first got the idea for this), so when given the chance to be famous by his family Alexandros changes his name to Paris. If that makes sense.

It was a late Saturday night-- the first signs of fall just beginning to show across their small town. Patroclus and Alexandros were sitting on their orphanage’s roof, observing the way the red and brown tinged leaves blew in the wind. Alex was fresh from the director’s latest lashing of him, and Patroclus was filled with an anger he didn't know how to place. Normally this time would be filled with idle chit chat, light flirtation, or maybe even a serious conversation, but for whatever reason neither of them could find it within them to speak. So instead they looked down at the city around them.

The orphanage was located in the worst part of town, so even on the cloudiest of nights the two teens still got a decent enough view of _something._ The silence continued to settle over them like a wet blanket as they watched a shopkeeper chase a pair of would be burglars down the street, broken only by the occasional shout from below or sniffle from Alexandros.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Patroclus asked long after the the bulgars had been chased out of sight. He knew it was a rather simple question, and a vague one at that, but for once in his life he found the quiet between him and Alexandros to be unbearable. He just needed something, _anything,_ to distract him from uncharacteristic the rage that threatened to overtake him.

Alex looked over at him and smiled. There was a dark bruise splattered across his face, but even then, he was still beautiful. There was a time before Alexandros, something Patroclus often had to remind himself of in moments like these. It was a time marked by loneliness, self isolation, and silence. He did not wish to go back to living that way anytime soon.

“Yeah, I think about it a lot.” Alex said evenly. He hugged his knees to his chest, his shoulder length black hair just barely brushing against the ripped fabric of his pants.

Patroclus leaned toward him, tentatively putting an arm around the other boy’s shoulder. “When you think about the future...am I in it?”

“Duh!” Alex said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He smiled and leaned into Patroclus. Below, the sounds of the city played on like a discordant orchestra, but anything other than the feeling of Alex’s head against his shoulder was lost to him.

Patroclus forced himself to reply with, at the very least, a simple smile and nod. He should have known the answer. After all, he and Alex had made a million promises to stay together after they turned 18; promises of marriage, of getting jobs together, and of moving far _far_ away from this tiny shithole of a town. Alexandros had always wanted to he somebody important, and Patroclus just wanted to be somebody important to Alex. He would follow him anywhere: Athens, Paris, Hollywood, or even to Tartus.

“What do you think about, when you think about the future?” Alex asked him in turn. Just as Patroclus had known what Alex’s answer would be, Alex knew what Patroclus’ answer would be. They knew one another as well as they knew their own minds (or so Patroclus liked to think), but all the same he knew that talking about the future always made Patroclus feel better about the present.

“I think about us…” Patroclus trailed off. He laid back on the roof and stared up at the stars. One good thing about living in a small town: very little light pollution.

“I turn eighteen first, so I'll get thrown out first. I'll get a job somewhere, maybe the library or a grocery store, and I'll get an apartment. You'll turn eighteen a few months later, and we’ll take the money I had saved up from working and move wherever you want to.”

“Just you and me moving to a big city together.” Alexandros said with a smile and a dreamy sigh. Patroclus could just barely see the stars reflecting in his eyes. “Me, the singer, and my boyfriend, my rock through it all.”

Alex was just as resourceful as he was beautiful. Patroclus knew he could easily excelle at whatever he wanted to be. Whether it be a singer, a model, or a fucking politician. At one point, Patroclus had toyed around with the idea of being a poet or a painter, but he never saw either of those things happening. He wasn't Alexandros-- he couldn't command the adoration of people as easily as his friend did-- and instead he found himself perfectly content at the idea of being a doctor or a teacher or something else as stable as it was boring. He found himself even more content with being Alexandros’ shadow for the rest of his life, because it meant being _with_ Alex for the rest of his life. Alexandros and the orphanage were probably the closest things Patroclus would ever get to a home. Patroclus had thought that for quite a while, but there was something just off about it. Alexandros _was_ his home, not the orphanage.

Alexandros looked over his shoulder and down at where Pat lay, the two making eye contact briefly. Patroclus’ heart jumped in his chest-- with star light reflecting off of his wavy black hair and his unblemished skin almost glowing under the moonlight-- Alexandros had never looked more beautiful. Patroclus felt breathless.

“Hey, Pat,” Alex whispered softly, his voice barely louder than the wind.

“H-hey Alex.” Patroclus tried for the same softness, but stumbled over his syllables and failed. He would never be as graceful as Alex. _No one could ever be as graceful as Alex_ , he thought.

He tried to think of something else to say, but then suddenly, like a bow being shot from an arrow, Alex leaned down over him and pressed their mouths together. Alex’s mouth was soft yet unyielding. He kissed like he knew exactly what to do (which, Patroclus realized, he probably did). Patroclus’s mouth felt clunky and uncoordinated. He tried his best to mimic what Alex was doing with with no such luck, but if Alex thought he was a bad kisser he showed no sign of it.

When they pulled apart Alexandros had a look in his eyes, something like hunger or desperation. Patroclus looked away from him briefly, his hands started to shake and his heart felt like it was seconds away from exploding.

“You’re a good kisser.” Alexandros said, his face neutral. Pat knew he was lying, he always knew when Alex was lying, but even so he couldn’t stop the light blush that had spread across his face and down his neck.

He looked back at his friend to see him touching his lips. Patroclus mirrored the action. “Tha- thanks. You too.”

Alex smiled at him knowingly for all of a second, before the frown suddenly changed into a deep frown. Something in Patroclus’ brain said that the expression was manufactured, as fake as the compliment Alex had just given him, but he ignored it.

“What is it? Did I- I’m sorry- Did I do something wrong?” He sat up and cupped Alex’s cheek in one of his hands. The artificial yellow glow of the street lights cast shadows across Alex’s face and made the purple of his bruises seem almost black.

“Patroclus,” he whispered softly. His face and voice conveyed an overwhelming amount of emotion, almost like he was seconds away from crying, but the poignancy didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did I ever tell you why I’m in the system?”

“Your family didn’t want you.” Patroclus cringed at how harsh the words sounded as soon as they left his mouth. _Your family didn’t want you_ is what the director would scream at Alexandros when angry. It couldn’t have been the truth, Patroclus was sure. Perhaps they simply couldn’t have taken care of him and thought that he would have had a better life in the system. Or maybe something had happened to them. Patroclus clinched his jaw-- if Alex’s’ family had been anything like his own had been, then maybe him being in the system was better than any alternative.

Alexandros only hugged his knees close to his chest again. “I know the director just says it to be mean but, it scares me.”

Patroclus rubbed gentle circles on the small of his back. Alex looked over at him, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling in a way that made Patroclus made believe it sincere. Maybe it was real. Maybe Patroclus just wanted to believe him badly enough that he lied to himself. “What if- what if you decided you don’t want me anymore?”

Patroclus shook his head and hoped his friend could see the conviction he held in his eyes. He could never imagine a version of himself that didn’t love Alex. He couldn’t imagine anyone who didn’t love Alex.

Alex sniffled, despite their being no tears in his eyes. “Say it.”

“I’ll never not want you, Alex. I-” his voice caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe was really going to say this. “- I love you, Alexandros. For everything you are, everything you were, and everything you ever will be.”

Alexandros smiled, and Patroclus felt relief bloom within in. Both because Alex didn’t seem like he would reject him and because this expression seemed genuine. “I love you too, Pat. For now, and forever.”

Patroclus could only smile as Alex moved to kiss him again. He wondered if he would always be this happy.

 

\---Two Years Later---

 

Patroclus had to remind himself how expensive his phone was to stop himself from ripping it off the charger and throwing it at his apartment’s wall. He was thankful he possessed the mental functions to actually do so in his half conscious state, but that didn't stop him from seriously considering it some mornings. Begrudgingly, and with plenty of groaning and a string of cursing, he sat up in bed long enough to unlock his phone and turn off his 8:30 a.m. alarm.

“Fuck the graveyard shift.” He groaned to no one.

His words were followed by the sound of nails scraping against linoleum tile and light panting. Patroclus smiled at the sound. Well, maybe not no one. The sound of nails against tile was muted by carpet as it neared Patroclus’ bed, and had his custom collar (one part coin like with Patroclus’ name, number, and address inscribed into it and the other top part a large shiny letter “P”) not been so noisy Patroclus would have forgotten about the pile of black hair sitting on the side of his bed.

“Come on boy,” he cooed, patting the empty space beside him on the bed. “Come on, Pontus.”

Pontus obeyed, giving a soft yap as he jumped on the bed. Patroclus covered the dog’s face in kisses and showered him in compliments. _“Who’s my good boy? Who’s my good boy? You! Yes, you!”_ Pontus responded by licking Patroclus’ face and letting out little noises of contentment.

After what felt like less than 10 minutes Patroclus’ 9:00 am alarm went off.

“Alright, no more fun.” He said with a sigh. Pontus made a whining noise, but jumped off the bed and ran across the apartment.

Patroclus managed to force himself to get out of bed, granted only after mentally berating himself and reminding himself of how _very_ much he needed this job. He scratched his stomach and let out a loud yawn as he followed the dog to the kitchenette area. Pontus mimicked the yawn, then looked down at his food bowl.

“Already out? I thought Kokonis were supposed to have a light appetite.” He raised at eyebrow at the dog.

The dog only barked in response.

“Oh, wow! Geez, sorry I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Patroclus bent down and poured more food in the dogs bowl, and then went over to start up his coffee maker. He had a rather sobering moment as he poured water into the pot of just how sad his life actually was. The kind that most twenty something year olds were prone to. The kind he had every morning at this exact time.

Over the last two years his life changed drastically, as he knew it would. What he didn’t know is how _god_ _awful_ his life would be once it did change. He worked two jobs. He lived alone (except for Pontus, of course). The only human contact he had aside from annoying customers and his landlord was with his only friend-- a coworker from the library who sometimes sent him the odd Buzzfeed article. The love of his life had up and left him the second he was given the chance.

He felt a bout of anger swell within him when he remembered Alexandros’ betrayal. It had been over two years ago, but he still felt the sting from his heartbreak like it was yesterday. His family-- the very family that hadn’t wanted him in the first place-- had come back for him, and as it would turn out, they were the most influential family in the world. Patroclus had always amused himself, and Alex, with the idea that his ex had been descended from royalty, but what he hadn’t imagined was that Alexandros would be descended from the closest thing modern society had left-- reality t.v. stars.

As it would turn out Alex’s flair for the dramatics were all thanks to genetics-- all thanks to being one of Priam Troy’s unholy spawns. Priam, a former senator, and the rest of his attention starved but jet setting children (which included a football player, a music producer, a psychic, and a now up and coming singer aka “Paris”) decided that the perfect way to save themselves from falling out of the public eye would be a reality television show. That, in turn, led to their two hour special “Saving Paris”-- a special all about reconnecting with the lost son that Priam and Hecuba tragically had to give up due to financial woes in their twenties. They arrived at the orphanage one day, clad in clothing worth more than Patroclus would ever make in his life and their every movement followed by a film crew. They told Alexandros the “heartbreaking” story of how they had been “forced” to give him up and Alex played right into the camera like he was born for it. Which, looking back, Patroclus realized he was.

Then the cameras shut off and the lawyers came out. One of them, an attractive but menacing leach of a woman named Aphrodite, said that if Alexandros agreed to go back with them and join their family again (under the name they would have chosen for him-- aka a name more marketable to the world--) he would be afforded all the opportunities to make all his dreams come true. It all seemed too good to be true.

And it was.

There was one condition. In order to avoid media persecution or mass scandal, Alexandros (now to be known as _Paris)_ had to agree to leave everything from his old life behind. His old name, his old high school, and especially Patroclus. Alex, with stars in his eyes and a joy that Patroclus had never seen on his face before, agreed without even a second thought.

Patroclus can still remember the way The Trojan family had looked at him as if he were a mangy dog rather than their long lost son’s closest companion. He can still remember the way his heart shattered into a million pieces and bottomed out in his stomach.

_Alexandros what the fuck? You- you can’t be serious. You can’t leave me...not after- not after everything we planned._

_“It’s Paris now, Patroclus. Keep up and yes I am serious. All of my dreams are going to come true and, honestly, you’re being so fucking selfish right now. If you really loved me you’d be happy for me.”_

_Alex- Paris- fuck. Whatever. I do love you and I’m sorry but can we at least talk about this? There’s gotta be something we can do. We could try a long distance relationship or- or I don’t know I’d be open to anything._

_“Take. The. Hint. I’m going away to be with my real family because guess what, they actually want me. Just because your alcoholic dad hasn’t so much as thought about you since you were removed from his care doesn’t give you the right to stomp all of my dreams. I thought you loved me but clearly you’re way too selfish to be capable of love, Patroclus.”_

That was the last time he and “Paris” ever spoke. Each word that had been said was burned into his brain like the dewey decimal system. Sometimes he would replay the interaction in his head, trying to figure out what he had done wrong or what he could have done right. What he could have done to make Alexandros still love him. They were impossible scenarios to answer an impossible problem, and they did little more than keep Patroclus up at night.

Now, nearly two years later, the Trojan family was the absolute apple of the media’s eyes. Everything they did was deemed newsworthy, and it drove Patroclus absolutely mad. It was bad enough he had been left to tend to his own heartbreak in complete isolation, but now he was forced to hear about his ex every time he turned on the television or the radio? It was enough to drive a man to throw his own cable box out of his apartment window. Literally.

The relief he felt after doing it was well worth the fact that he wouldn’t get his renter’s deposit back.

Patroclus rinsed a fig off in his sink, and started to slice it up for his morning oatmeal. As he did he tried to remind himself that his life wasn’t _that_ bad. At the very least, it wasn’t as bad as it had been when Alexandros first left. He had a dog. That was something. He had two jobs and always made rent of time. After throwing his cable box out of the window he hadn’t been able to afford a new one, so he wasn’t subject to any form of media outside of rewatching his landlord’s favorite Judy Garland film for the millionth time with him every thursday. That meant he hadn’t been forced to hear anything about Alex in a good year, and that might have been the best thing about his life at the moment.

It was _fine._ His life was _fine._ _Everything was_ \- he grit his teeth, a frustrated sigh forced its way passed his teeth. He looked down at the fig he had been slicing to see the poor thing had been diced into unrecognizable shreds in his anger. He set down his knife before he could do any real damage.

Pontus rubbed his head against Patroclus’ legs, apparently sensing his anger and sadness.

“Thanks, boy.” He squatted down and rubbed the dog's head. Bitter though he may be about his life, he could still find happiness in Pontus and the fact that his renter had allowed him to have pets (for the low price of being able to quote _The Wizard of Oz_ from memory).

He looked up at the clock on his microwave and swore silently. He had less than 30 minutes to be ready. He shoved the decimated fig in his mouth, forgoing his idea of oatmeal in favor of keeping his job. He gave Pontus a quick kiss on the head, promising to walk him after he got off work, and ran into the shower. The water in his shower never warmed right away, nor did it ever truly get warm this time of year, so he spent the better part of his shower under a torrent of ice water.

 _It’s not that bad._ He tried to tell himself as he washed his conditioner out.

 _It’s not that bad_. He hissed to himself as he dried off, cold air shrouding around him like he had just jumped off the side of the Titanic.

 _It’s not that bad._ He sighed as he locked his apartment door and ran down stairs.

 _It’s not that bad._ He panted to himself, having just chased his bus 5 blocks after having just barely missed it.

“It’s not that bad.” Iphigenia said into her coffee mug. Patroclus registered that she had been talking to him for the better part of an hour, but he had been too focused in scanning overdue books to notice.

“Sleeping alone. It’s not that bad,” She said again when she noticed the somewhat lost look on his face. There was a smile on her lips, but even someone as spaced out as him could see the heartbreak in her eyes. Similar to heartbreak he still harbored. “Once you get passed the fact that, you know, you’re sleeping alone.” She tried a weak attempt at humor.

He pushed air out of his nose in lieu of a proper laugh, though he suspects she didn’t think he truly would laugh. She had been the closest thing to a friend he had allowed himself to have in the past two years, which meant she had a pretty good idea of what had happened between him as his ex. She knew he would sympathize.

“You should get a dog. It helps.” He finally said after a few minutes of silence. The library had been somewhat busy today, but their newest volunteer-- a young man named Ajax Jr. who was just as smart as he was was talkative (not very much at all on either account)-- had been tasked with reshelving returned books, leaving Patroclus and Iphigenia without much to do.

Iphigenia smiled at his suggestion, leaning over his desk and resting her arms on an unsorted stack of Athens Entertainment Today (unsorted because, quite frankly, he would sooner poor bleach in his eyes than run the risk of accidentally seeing his ex boyfriend on the cover). “How is little Pontus doing, by the way?”

“Just as hyper as ever,” He smiled, looking away from her and going back to typing. “On a related note- if you do go with the dog thing- meliteo kinidos have to be walked about twice a day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” She said slyly. Patroclus looked away from his computer screen to see her still smiling at him. A chill ran down his spin. He did _not_ like that look. “But I had another suggestion of how we could keep our beds warm.”

He raised his eyebrows up in a wordless question, and prayed this didn’t mean that she was going try and set him up with their volunteer. Again. The last guy had at least been somewhat compatible with Patroclus, but the Ajax? He was a football player straight out of the local high school, and on top of that he was only there because he _had_ to have so many volunteer credit hours to be eligible for a scholarship and he didn’t want to get stuck “dealing with oldies, you know man?”. He wasn’t even sure the relationship would be legal, let alone the fact that the kid was the furthest thing from his type that you could get. He hated jocks (too many bad memories from his own time in high school). He hated pretty boys too. Ajax was far from that, but he just felt it should be said that, after Alexandros, he refused to date another self obsessed pretty boy and get his heart broken.

 

“Don’t give me that look. Gods, I’m not going to murder you. Or sleep with you, whichever your candy ass finds more terrifying.” She rolled her eyes, the teasing tone in her voice obvious and without venom.

He rolled his eyes right back at her, and stuck out his tongue for good measure. “You should be so lucky.”

She laughed at that. “Please, babes, you know you’re totally hetero for me.”

“Ugh, as if.” He made to look back at his computer, but she whacked his shoulder.

“Hey, Mr. All Work No Play, I’m not done.” She sat on his desk. He smiled at the mental image of Alex being smothered under her. “I want to go out tonight.”

Ajax entered the small office, but both ignored him. He knew what to do by now, surely trading in an empty cart for one full of books can’t be that hard. Even for a guy that took an average of 30 hits to the head every week.

“Out? Where?” Patroclus asked. He knew for a fact that there was no where in their town to _“go out”_ to. Unless you counted the rundown Greek restaurant on main street. 

“Beyond Seas! Where else are we going to get, as the kids say,” she pointed at where Ajax stood texting in the corner of the room “get turnt! Get lit!”

“Uh, no one says that anymore.” the teen supplied, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

She crossed her legs and arms simultaneously. “Maybe _you_ don’t, but I’ll have you know I’m very cool and hip with the youths.”

As she said this she was wearing a sweater that could only be described as something a 90 year old woman would be buried in, and she wiggled her shoulders in a joking manner. For a 23 year old, she could certainly seem much older in a given moment.

Ajax, in his reply, only offered a dismissive “yeah right” and wheeled out another cart.

Iphigenia laughed, seemingly at either nothing or a joke that only she understood, and turned back to Patroclus. “So, I’ll pick you up at 9:30?”

“I don’t know, Iphy….” he sighed and tried to wrack his brain for some excuse. He had worked two jobs with little to no time off for the last two years, and this weekend would be the first full weekend off he would probably ever get for the next 60 years. He had planned on fully enjoying it alone (with Pontus by his side) on his couch binge watching every cooking and real estate show that both Netflix and Hulu had to offer; and also getting drunk and crying over his ex. The usual things one did over their weekends off, not in a seedy hookup bar over an hour away.

“Before you try to make an excuse, you’ve already told me that you have all weekend off.”  She said, her finger raised at him in a scolding manner. He inwardly cursed himself.

Patroclus opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but before he could her scolding finger was already wagging at him. Yes, she could definitely seem far older than twenty three when she wanted.

“I know for a fact that whatever your deal is with your ex-- _he who shall not be named_ \-- was bad news, and you sitting at home on one of the rare weekend you get off, making yourself miserable with the memory of him will do you absolutely no good.”

Patroclus closed his mouth. She had a good point, not that he would admit it.

Iphigenia looked down at him from the rim of her glasses judgingly. He subconsciously pushed up his own pair and cleared his throat. “Alright, fine. I guess you do need someone to look after you in case you get too drunk.”

“Too lit, you mean.” She pushed herself off of his desk, her face split into a pleased smile.

“Don’t push it.” He teased, adding another eye roll.

 

\---

 

Nine hours, five different remixes of _Run Away With Me,_ two shots of vodka, and squeezing himself into a pair of impossibly tight skinny jeans later, they were at the bar. Patroclus was wrong in his earlier description of it. Beyond Seas wasn’t just a seedy hookup bar, it was _the_ seediest hookup bar their side of the Aegean Sea. To make things worse, after about 30 minutes of sitting next to him and people watching, Iphigenia ran into an old childhood friend. A redhead she called _“Deia”._ The two were now grinding up against one another to a nameless pop song while Patroclus watched wearily from the bar. Iphy had downed at least five shots before running into Deia, and then another five at the redhead’s insistence (and expense). He knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but still that sense of brotherly protection made him wary of the other woman. His own romantic past made him wary of anyone, really.

The song ended and the girls walked off the dance floor, hand in hand. Deia whispered something in Iphigenia's ear as they approached Patroclus, and his stomach twisted in a knot. He already knew what his friend was going to say, even before he could make out the blush that had spread from her birthmark covered neck to her makeup covered face.

“We’re gonna-” she tried to say half way giggling. The rest of her sentence was lost when another song started up, but he thinks he made out the basics of _“back to her place”_ and _“I’m sorry but I’m sure you can still catch a cab”._ Patroclus watched the two go stumbling both from alcohol and having worn heels for the last three hours. He tried not to let his anger or bitterness get the better of him. She was still his only friend- it wouldn’t do him any good to let something so juvenile ruin the one good relationship he still had left in his life.  

He got up from his seat, leaning over the bar ever so slightly to get the bartender’s attention. As he did a of wolf whistle was sent in his direction. He remember that he was wearing (what Iphy had dubbed a few hours prior to be) his _fuck me_ jeans. He also remembered the magazine cover Iphy had sat on earlier today-- it’s cover story being that “Paris” had died his hair a shocking shade of blonde for his newest album’s debut party.

He pushed himself back and turned around, a sudden resolve blooming forth from his bitterness. If he couldn’t get drunk and think about his ex alone, then at the very least he could get drunk and fuck the closest thing to a look alike he could find. He sat back against the bar and looked around for a blonde guy that even somewhat resembled Alex. His eyes landed on lone pretty boy in the corner. He had an amused air about him-- the same one Alexandros had when observing the other students he deemed to be “less than” in high school. _Perfect,_ Patroclus thought. _Just perfect._

He ordered another shot, downed them both and made his way over to the blonde. Two years of heartbreak and horniness combined with his buzz to make him uncharacteristically confident.

“You wouldn’t happen to have been the guy that whistled at me, would you?” He asked, leaning heavily on his left leg.

The blonde looked over at him, almost like he was surprised that someone had dared talk to him, but he kept going because underneath the surface level annoyance was an overwhelming cockiness to him that reminded Patroclus so much of Alex it drove him crazy. “I’m afraid not.” the blonde gave a condescending smile and Patroclus felt his heart hammer in his chest. “But why don’t you let me buy you a drink and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Well, if you insist.”

Achilles patted the empty space next to him. Patroclus sat down, making sure he was close enough that their thighs were pressed against one another.

“What exactly does _make it worth my while_ mean?” He leaned against the blonde. His drunken self thought that he was the master of seduction, but the small part of his brain that managed to stay rational told him he would be cringing at all of this come morning.

“I’ll sign an autograph, take a picture with you, and I’ll even let you tell all your friends about this.” He said with a knowing smirk, and added a wink at the end of his sentence for effect. There was something very satisfied in his eyes, like he enjoyed being in his own skin more than any one man should.

Patroclus was a little taken aback. He had zero clue who this guy was-- something he could thank two years of isolating himself from modern media for-- but his overconfident state let him ask. “What?”

“And, I’ll do you a favor. I don’t normally sleep with fans, but we’ll see where the night goes.” He said with a salesman's smile. The cockiness continued to ooze out of him with every word, even despite Patroclus’ obvious confusion. He wrapped an arm around Patroclus, pulling him closer.

“Are you one of the drag acts at the club here then?” Patroclus asked. He had thought that the guy looked familiar, but he couldn't place it.

“Uh...no?” The blonde looked Patroclus over. Patroclus noticed, even in the dim light of the club, that his eyes were a vivid green. When he finally found what he was looking for, his eyes widened in excitement and wonder. “Wait, do you really not know who I am?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t really get out much.” Patroclus admitted, embarrassed but still following through with his plan. This guy could have been one of Alexandros’ brothers with how similar they were-- hell he very well may have been and Patroclus wasn’t about to let this opportunity fall away because of a little cultural ignorance. “What’s your name?”

“Achilles.”

 _Achilles_ tightened the arm that was around Patroclus, pulling him even closer. Patroclus had been worried that not recognizing Achilles, whoever the hell he was, would have offended him, but apparently his ignorance had only excited him. More questions flooded Patroclus’ mind, but the feeling of Achilles’ hand sliding its way up his thigh silenced them.

He realized he had not told Achilles his name. His mouth moved automatically. “I’m Pat- Patroclus, but more people call me Pat.” That was a lie. No one called him Pat but he didn’t want to suffer through hearing his one in a million hookup butcher his name.

“That’s a shame.” Achilles frowned a little. “Patroclus-” _Pa-tro-clus_  “-is such a beautiful name. No one should ever cut it short.”

Patroclus smiled at that, stupidly and happily. “No one had ever complimented my name before. Thank you, _Achilles.”_

He tried to say Achilles’s name with the same grace and seduction that Achilles had used when saying his name. In a sober state of mind Patroclus would have felt that he failed-- felt that the syllables were clunky and wrong and that he spat them out more than spoke them, but in the moment Patroclus felt he possessed all the grace and seduction power of a god.

Achilles frowned again, momentarily, but it was it was quickly replaced with a predatory smile. “I like the way you say my name.”

Another wave of confidence surged over Patroclus. He smiled and leaned forward, his lips ghosting over Achilles’s ear. “You’ll like the way I moan it a lot more.”

“Is that so?” Achilles pulled back from him, his eyebrows raised in amusement and a smile on his lips. There was almost a condescending tone underneath, something that Patroclus might have just been imagining, but it didn’t bother him. It was just something else that reminded him of Alexandros. “You’re bold. I like that.”

Patroclus smiled and decided that if bold was what Achilles liked, he would give him bold. It didn’t matter how shy he normally was in his everyday life-- the quiet unassuming librarian who moonlighted as a waiter on weekends to make rent-- that night he would be the bold and confident bar goer who was trying his hardest to seduce the very charming Achilles. He raised a hand and toyed with the collar of Achilles’ shirt. He then slowly dragged his fingers down Achilles’ chest to his belt, and from there, teasingly slide a finger the belt loop on Achilles’s pants. He looked down, tugged it lightly, and looked back up to Achilles.

Achilles watched him with interest-- a subtle curiosity and lust in the way his eyes followed Patroclus’s fingers moved down his body.

“I hadn’t planned on staying the night here. No offense, but this part of the country isn’t exactly my ideal vacation spot.” Achilles said when Patroclus had moved up to toying with the front of his belt. He caught on fast. Patroclus liked that. What he was saying made sense as well. He didn’t see someone like Achilles ever existing so close to his void of a town, but then again it was hard for him to even imagine a time when Alexandros had lived there with him. “Do you live near here?”

“Yeah- Yeah kinda,” Patroclus answered. His confidence faded some now that he was reminded that he lived almost an hour away. He rubbed the back of his neck and continued on. “One town over, it’s, like, kinda far…”

He trailed off, but Achilles did not let silence between them linger. He pulled out his phone and started making a call. Before whoever he was calling picked up he turned to Patroclus and said “That’s fine. I have a driver, so we can use the hour to…” he looked Patroclus up and down, another smile on his lips “get better acquainted.”

“Sounds perfect.” Patroclus smiled. He tried to lean against Achilles again, but the other man was already on his feet before Patroclus could process. Achilles held out a hand and offered him a smile so bright that it almost lit up the club’s dark interior. Patroclus accepted it, allowing himself to be pulled up so he was standing and then, within the instant, be pulled out towards the door. _Must be the alcohol._ He thought to himself, suddenly feeling light headed. He would have killed to have Iphy’s alcohol tolerance. He would have killed to have Iphy there with him in that moment to talk some common sense into him.  

The stuffy club air became a breeze cold enough to turn his breath into fog as Achilles led him outside. There another, shorter, blonde was waiting on them. He nodded to the two of them and pointed to where a car with tinted windows and no tags was parked just a few feet away as if that would explain whatever it was needed explaining.

“Thank you, Auto,” Achilles said, his hand squeezing Patroclus’s. He said something else to the shorter guy, “Auto”, but Patroclus didn’t listen. He was too busy looking back and forth from the car to Achilles. The car looked like it was something out of a James Bond movie, or something a foreign dignitary would be driven around in at the very least, and Achilles looked like an angel even in the dingy street light.

When had said he needed to call a driver, Patroclus had assumed he meant an uber or a taxi service. Not...whateverthefuck this was. _“Wait, do you really not know who I am?”_ Achilles had asked, surprise and intrigue dripping from every syllable. Patroclus had written him off as being some local hotshot-- a former high school sports star that had been riding out his former glory or some local business owner’s kid-- but Patroclus now got the feeling that he was much more important. Patroclus opened his mouth to speak, or as a question he wasn’t really sure, but before he could make his brain form any type of coherent thought he was being pulled along once more. Auto went ahead of them, opening the door for them. Patroclus got in first at Achilles’s insistence. Auto closed the door behind them and ran to the driver’s side to get into the car himself. Patroclus looked around the interior of the car. The seat was leather, black and soft under his hands, and he couldn’t see anything outside of the equally black windows. He felt way too classless to be in such a nice car with such a seemingly important man, like a fly landing on a four-tiered wedding cake, but then Achilles leaned forward and pressed their lips together and all thoughts of anything that wasn’t the feeling of utter _want_ left him.

The drive back to Patroclus’ apartment was nothing. It felt like it had taken all of ten minutes for Auto to drive them back to Patroclus’ apartment, and less than 30 seconds for them to stumble up the stairs together and find themselves tangled up in Patroclus’ bed.

“You’re perfect,” Achilles breathed out, his hands running up and down Patroclus’ torso. His fingers ghosted down over Patroclus’ upper thighs, and then up to a spot that even Patroclus himself had not touched in years. “Gods, I didn’t even know someone could have freckles _there._ ”

Patroclus smiled, arching his back up into Achilles’s ministrations. His voice, like his breath, was shaky with want. “I didn’t know anyone could be that flexible.”

Achilles laughed, breathless. His hips moved with a precision Patroclus didn’t think human. He was fluid, perfect, warm and worshipping. Patroclus, despite his own inexperience, never felt inadequate or unsatisfied throughout the encounter. Eventually both were spent, Achilles’ seemingly endless stamina gave out sometime around two am after round number three (or was it four? Patroclus’ mind had grown so fuzzy from a combination of his earlier buzz, pleasure, and exhaustion that it was hard to keep track of anything what wasn’t Achilles straddling his thighs or turning him over).

As the two laid there, Patroclus allowed himself-- for the first time in two years-- to think back to his first time. It had been with Alexandros, and Patroclus had been so nervous, so excited, that he could have thrown up. He spent the entire encounter with shaky hands trying his best to do what Alex told him to and waiting for the ache in his gut to subside. It had been awkward, and Patroclus was sure he was nothing short of horrible based on Alex’s reaction. But with Achilles he felt like he was nothing short of Casanova. He had felt sure of himself, treasured and relaxed. After his first time, Alex had left him almost immediately with an excuse Patroclus was almost sure was made up, but Achilles had planted himself in Patroclus’ arms and had all but refused to leave the warmth of Patroclus’ bed.  

“What about Auto?” Patroclus whispered. He had been scared of breaking the peaceful silence that had fallen around the two, but he couldn’t help but worry about the driver. Patroclus had, after all, assumed Achilles would leave the second he had finished.

“Mmm,” Achilles hummed, his lips moving against Patroclus’ neck and caused him to shudder. “I texted him and told him to find a hotel until I’m ready to leave.”

Patroclus grunted in response. His eyes were already closing on their own, Achilles’ warmth surrounding and sedating him.

 

\---

 

The sound of barking and the smell of eggs woke Patroclus up. He groaned, and pressed two fingers into his right temple. The lights were too bright, his dog was too loud, and everything was too much.

“Morning, carmelcake.” A sing-songy voice greeted from across the apartment. Patroclus froze in fear for a moment before he remembered last night.

“Oh- uh- morning.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Carmelcake?”

“Hope you don’t mind that I made up breakfast!” Achilles said, a little too loudly. Patroclus winced at the noise, but was quick to wave him off. “And isn’t it cute? I figured you needed a pet name as cute as you, Patroclus.”

“No, no it’s fine. Thanks,” Patroclus forced himself to sit up on his bed. Pontus jumped up and greeted him with wet sloppy kisses. “And good morning to _you!_ ”

Achilles looked up from where he had been flipping an omelet on the stove. He watched the interaction with a smile. “Your dog’s cute. Friendly too.”

“Really? He doesn’t normally like most people.”

“Well I’m not most people.” He said, an amused edge to his voice. It prompted Patroclus to look up from where he had been lavishing his dog with attention. When he did he caught the end of a wicked smile.

In a sense, Achilles was right. Patroclus didn’t have any experience with one night stands, but based on what limited knowledge he did have, it was rare that they stayed the full night. Even rarer that they should wake up and cook you breakfast.

“Oh, I was going to jump in the shower before I started cooking, but I figured I would wait for you.” The blonde shot him another smile. This one was less wicked and more like the golden one he had given Patroclus last night. He felt himself blush.

The now sober and devastatingly less confident Patroclus barely managed to sputter out a surprised “O- oh.” Achilles laughed, more to himself and most likely at his hook-up’s awkwardness. Patroclus cringed, his head still pounding. “Sorry, I don’t have much experience with these things.”

“It’s alright, Patroclus,” _pa-tro-clus_ said as languid as the morning light and more lovingly than Romeo would ever speak to Juliet. “I’m very confident that you and I will get along perfectly this weekend.”

This weekend? _How long does he?-_ Pontus started barking at a bird that had landed on the window ledge. Patroclus gripped his head and groaned. He curled into himself in pain. The stove was turned off and Achilles was by his side in a second, pressing kisses into his throbbing temple and petting his hair. His touches were so loving, so warm and nice and yet so foreign to Patroclus. He wondered why he had allowed himself to wallow in his own heartbreak for so long-- why he had allowed Alexandros to rob him of two years that could have otherwise been filled with hookups like these (and maybe even a relationship or two). Patroclus decided, as his searing pain in his head died down to a dull throb and Achilles left his side with the promise of bringing him breakfast in bed, that if Achilles was willing to stay and nurse his hangover, then he would let him. Besides, he didn’t think he could stomach any type of confrontation anyway.

 

\---

 

Achilles had made good on his promises. Both the promise of breakfast (a lovely omelet with a side of ibuprofen for his hangover), and his promise of staying for the weekend.

 

\---

 

Saturday was marked by Achilles holding Patroclus and nursing his headache with soft words and softer kisses; it was then followed with a shared shower. During which Achilles made several not-so-coy excusing to grab various parts of Patroclus’ body (Patroclus, of course returned the favor). They then went out and got lunch at the local greek place. Achilles paid and told him how beautiful he looked in the candlelight. After, they took Pontus out on another walk and talked more in depth about themselves. Achilles’ favorite color was gold. He was a gemini. He hated kids-- unless Patroclus liked them then he could tolerate having one-- and he loved using every opportunity he got to refer to Patroclus by the nickname he had given him.

_“Carmel like your sweet brown skin. Cake like your ass.”_

Patroclus nearly dropped Pontus’ leash and prayed that Achilles had been joking. A weird sense of humor he could deal with. Immaturity he wasn’t so sure.

Achilles was almost like a missing piece in his life. He told himself to be logical-- told himself that his attachment to Achilles was a result of the loneliness and desperation that had marked the last few years of his life, but even so he couldn’t help the overwhelming fondness that had bloomed within him as they lay next to one another in Patroclus’ bed that night. He tried to make himself ignore how _right_ it felt to wake up the sound of Achilles singing to Pontus and cooking breakfast again the next morning.

On some level Patroclus found Achilles’ lingering presence to be weird, yes, but he also found it to be comforting. For once he wasn’t alone in his apartment. He had someone by his side when he took Pontus out for his daily walk. He had someone to talk to-- someone to listen to his shitty jokes, someone to listen to his dumb opinions about his favorite house hunters episode, and most importantly someone to respond. Someone to give him his own opinion-- who would not only laugh at Patroclus’ jokes but make some of his own-- someone whose personality not was not only compatible with Patroclus’ but was the perfect kind of compatible that made the burden of everyday life so much easier. It was a casual type of companionship that Patroclus had been denying himself of for years, and for what? Because he was afraid he would get hurt again?

He wasn’t thinking clearly- logically- he knew that, but he didn’t care. He doubted he could think logically with someone as beautiful and enthralling as Achilles by his side anyway.

The latter realization hit him Sunday night. He and Achilles were curled up on the couch watching Achilles’ favorite Audrey Hepburn movie. His head was tucked in Achilles’ love bite covered neck, and Achilles’ legs were draped over his own.

“I don’t want this weekend to end.” He said, so quietly that he had assumed Achilles had not have heard him.

The only proof that Achilles had heard was the slight turn of his head accompanied by a frown on his otherwise perfect face.

“I don’t want to go back to the real world.” Patroclus said as means of explanation. Achilles took his hand and raised it to his pink lips. It was a soothing and romantic gesture- the kind of thing that Patroclus new he would miss come this time next week.

“You know you don’t have to,” Achilles said and his voice was soft as he turned Patroclus’ hand over and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “It can just be the two of us forever, in our own little bubble if that’s what you want.”

“You’d get sick of me after another week of this.” Patroclus smiled. He was tired, his eyelids falling slightly. His exhaustion even more evident in the way his voice crawled over each syllable.  

Achilles turned to face him fully, the movie completely forgotten about. A look of total offense was on his face, and his voice full of reassurance “I would never get sick of you, Patroclus. That I swear.”

Patroclus wanted to both laugh and shy away at that. The absolute sureness that Achilles seemed to have about Patroclus was almost comical. They had spent all weekend together, but Patroclus still felt as though he barely knew the other man. He found it improbable that Achilles could be any more sure about him. They were little more than strangers.

Patroclus looked away in response. It was far too much for him: the feeling of Achilles’ skin on his skin and the devoted way this perfect stranger looked at him. Insecurity and doubt crept into his mind and he started thinking about Alexandros despite himself. He had picked Achilles because of how much he reminded him of Alex, yes, but now the comparison made him want to run and hide.

Achilles was _nothing_ like Paris.

Achilles was _everything_ like Paris.  

“Look at me,” Achilles said, as he did he squeezed the hand he had just kissed. The normally melodic and carefree voice was colored with a more commanding tone. “You’re the single most interesting person I’ve ever met. When I’m with you I feel….I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it, Patroclus.”

He searched Patroclus’ face. Patroclus hoped that Achilles would find whatever he was looking for. When Achilles started talking again, he took it as a sign that he had. “I feel so many things when I’m with you, Patroclus. Things that I thought couldn’t exist outside of fiction. Don’t you feel that too?”

If Patroclus were being completely honest with himself, the answer was yes. Having Achilles by his side this past weekend had been something out of a dream, and the hopeless romantic side of him would have loved nothing more than to jump into the beautiful mystery of Achilles. He would have loved to just agree like it was nothing- like he had never been hurt before- and ask for something more. A lifetime more. But if he were being completely realistic-- and completely true to himself-- then he did not know how he felt. This weekend had been strange. Wonderful and fulfilling and exactly what he needed to get him out of the funk he had been in for the last two years, yes, but strange and so unlike anything he had ever imagined for himself. If he were being realistic, he did not see this weekend lasting another twelve hours, let alone the rest of his life.

“This weekend has been…” Patroclus started to say, then trailed off. The hope in Achilles’s eyes made it impossible for him to be either honest or realistic. If anything, the raw emotional intimacy that Achilles was attempting to establish just made him want to curl in on himself. “So undefinable. I have been so lonely, so closed off from the rest of the world, but with you I think I’ve been able to connect to the parts of me I’ve been hiding from.”

Achilles gave him a closed mouth small. His smile was warm, confident without being obnoxious, and genuine. “I feel the same. I keep asking myself where you’ve been all my life.”

It was a cheesy line, unoriginal and something that Alexandros had definitely said to him before, but Patroclus blushed a it all the same. Maybe he really believed Achilles. Maybe he was just desperate to believe in something again. He really didn’t know but it didn’t matter now. The weekend was almost over and he doubted he would ever see Achilles again.

Achilles grabbed the remote off the end table and turned the T.V. off. He turned to fully face Patroclus, one leg laid across Patroclus’ lap and the other tucked under him. Patroclus smiled. It felt so natural- so domestic.

“I have a signing party this week.”

“Signing for what?” Patroclus asked, not questioning the sudden seemingly random change in topics.

He had gathered over the last few days that Achilles had thought very highly of himself- and that he was involved in something akin to show business- but he had been content to leave it at that. He hadn’t know Achilles was famous before they met so he didn’t see why he should find out if he was famous just before he left. It hardly changed anything. Still, his question and genuine confusion seemed to please Achilles, who simply smiled and said:

“Wow, you really don’t know who I am.” He said and shook his head a little as if in disbelief. “What it’s for doesn’t matter. What matters is if you’re there with me or not.”

Patroclus was a little taken aback. He hadn’t expected Achilles to invite him- hadn’t expected for this to last more than the weekend. In all honesty, there was a small part of him that didn’t want this weekend to last- a small part of him that yearned to go back to his mundan lonely life.

“There with you,” Patroclus parroted. Even in the dim lamplight of his apartment Achilles’ hair was still golden. Patroclus leaned forward and ran a hand through it. “What does one wear to a signing event?”

“That doesn’t matter either, carmelcake.” Achilles said, his voice taking on a teasing quality when he said the nickname. He leaned into Patroclus’ touch, a soft expression of contentment on his face. “I can have a suit sent to your apartment and a car sent to pick you up. All you need to worry about is being there and looking handsome.”

Patroclus smiled but averted his eyes to look down at his lap. He had never dealt with anything like this before- couldn’t fathom this type of situation. It was so vague and new, and a part of him hated it. Another part of him- the spiteful part that wanted to send Alexandros the biggest _fuck you_ ever- accepted the opportunity as just the thing he needed to get out of his funk. If Achilles really were as big a star as he seemed to think himself to be, then maybe word of their affair would get back to Alex. Patroclus knew it was highly unrealistic but he couldn’t help but entertain himself with the notion of his ex being jealous of him and Achilles.

“Anything for you, Achilles” Patroclus said, a coquettish smile on his face. He leaned slight into Achilles both so that they were physically closer but so that he had to look up at Achilles through his lashes as he spoke.  

“Oh how I like the sound of that.” Achilles growled and grabbed the front of Patroclus’ shirt, pulling him forward so their lips met.

 

\---

 

The weekend of stolen kisses, soft words, and pretty half-truths ended the next morning. Patroclus had a shift at the library that started at eight. Automedon was waiting outside his apartment for Achilles no later than seven-thirty.

“This is your last chance to run away with me,” Achilles said as they kissed goodbye. He pressed Patroclus against the door, crowding him and flooding all of Patroclus’ senses. He looked heavenly-- curly blonde hair falling out of a loose braid, characteristically charming smile across his face, and he was wearing one of Patroclus’ t-shirts-- and he smelt like Patroclus. It was all too much and, for a moment, made him seriously consider the offer.

Then Automedon honked and the moment was over.

Patroclus put his hands on Achilles’ shoulders, gently pushing him away. “Iphigenia would kill me if I just up and abandoned her without so much of a warning text to let her know.”

“Then send her one as we romantically drive off into the sunset.” He pouted then leaned forward and covered Patroclus’ cheek in sloppy kisses. Patroclus smiled. He enjoyed the affection but still playfully swatted Achilles away for good measure.

“Ace, it’s just three days. I think you can last that long without seeing me.” _That’s longer than we’ve known each other._ He left off the last part and willed his logical side to be quiet for once.

“No,” Achilles said, sounding very much like a bratty toddler that wasn’t get his way _sounding very much like Alexandros_ “but I’ll do my best. Can I call you when I get to my hotel?”

“Yes, now go! I’m going to be late for work.” He gave Achilles another playful swat, this time on the ass. Achilles laughed so he laughed too. The two walked out side by side, Achilles to his private chauffeur and Patroclus to the bus stop.

He gave Achilles one last kiss before they parted. Achilles kissed back, his arms wrapping around Patroclus like a vice. “Patroclus,” he breathed out like a prayer.

“Achilles,” Patroclus replied, trying to remind himself that they were out on a public street and that Automedon was _right there._ “I need to go.”

“I know but-” Achilles’ arms tightened around him. Patroclus felt all the air being squeezed out of his lungs. “-there’s something I need to tell you.”

 _Oh god please don’t have an STD. Or have been sent by Alex. Or be one of Alex’s brothers. Or- or- or-_ Patroclus’ mind instantly raced with thousands of ridiculous possibilities, all of which ended with him miserable and alone again.

“Don’t look so scared. It’s- it’s nothing bad...at least I don’t think it is.” Achilles smiled, brighter than the sun and Patroclus felt his heart melt. Despite himself, he calmed at Achilles’ words. “Patroclus, I’m in love with you.”

Achilles looked at him expectantly. Patroclus blanched. That’s the absolute last thing that Patroclus had thought he was going to say. _Maybe I heard him wrong,_ he tried to rationalize. _Yeah, that’s gotta be it. Who the hell says the love someone after three days?_

Patroclus looked back at Achilles, smiling back at him. He was convinced he had heard him wrong, but now he had no idea what to say. Achilles looked like he was inching towards heartache with each second Patroclus took to reply. That in turn hurt Patroclus, who was beginning to realize the pitfalls of being overly empathetic.

“Y- you too, Achilles.” He stuttered out, caving under the intense gaze of emerald eyes.

“I knew I was right about you, Patroclus. I knew it.” Achilles said, like he hadn’t even noticed the hesitation in Patroclus’ words. He let go of Patroclus and smiled. “I’ll see you thursday, _love.”_

“Thursday.” Patroclus repeated. He nodded and, unsure of what else to do, turned around and headed to the bus stop. He knew he had already missed his bus, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle asking Achilles for a ride after all of that.

He felt Achilles’ eyes on him as he walked away, and he didn’t stop feeling them until long after he’d gotten to work.

 

\---

 

The rest of his monday was just as weird. Iphigenia called in to that day, leaving Patroclus alone with their newest volunteer. She was a quiet but friendly girl named Briseis.

“I want to be a librarian.” She smiled, sweet as honeysuckle.

Patroclus showed her around. Normally he would have been happy to have someone who actually wanted to work in a library volunteering, but his mind was so focused on Achilles he hardly noticed much of what she said.

He spent the rest of the afternoon scanning books, his mind half in his work and half on Achilles. Briseis was standing beside him, trying her best to look busy and she sorted and then resorted books.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He asked, absentmindedly. He had never put much stock into the idea but after Achilles had confessed to him that he believed in it, Patroclus found himself wanting to.

“W-what?” Briseis stuttered, nearly dropping the books in her hands.

“Oh,” he reacted like he had just realized he had spoken aloud. “Sorry I was just- I don’t know. My mind is somewhere else today.”

“That’s alright, Patroclus.” She said, going back to undo the stack she had just organized. Like with Achilles he had told her to just call him “Pat” to avoid hearing her butcher the pronunciation of his name, and like with Achilles she had decided to call him Patroclus instead. She pronounced it correctly the first time, but even then there was something in the way she said it that was lacking. It wasn’t the slow adoring way that Achilles said his name, _Pa-tro-clus,_ and that left him wanting.

After that the day ended without anything worth noting. He finished scanning books, walked her to her car, and then went home and crashed. Achilles’ scent still lingered in his sheets. He felt overwhelmed with both fondness and a need to do laundry.

He got an email that night from Briseis thanking him for being kind and showing him the ropes that day. He responded with a _“no problem”_ and an _“if you ever need a recommendation written, I’m your guy.”_

He spent the rest of the night staring at his phone in anticipation.

 

\---

 

He didn’t hear from Achilles again until Tuesday night.

Achilles ended calling him sometime after midnight, not that it mattered to Patroclus. He hardly slept anyway and hearing his melodic voice through the phone was just what he needed. They fell into easy conversation about their respective days, about the weather, about Thursday, and about how much they missed each other. It was the kind of idle chitchat Patroclus craved, and he refused to let this go any time soon. They ended up talking on the phone until six in the morning, stopping only when Patroclus fell asleep halfway through describing his view of the sunset.

 

\---

 

Wednesday he woke up around noon to a series of _good morning_ and _I love you_ texts from Achilles. He read them and smiled to himself the rest of the day. Achilles had even sent him a custom made suit he promised. It was something borderline gaudy and that Patroclus would never buy for himself otherwise, but it was from Achilles so he loved it. Half way through trying it on he noticed there was a note pinned to the lapel.

 

_Can’t wait to see you in this carmelcake ._

_P.S. can’t wait to see you take it off either._

 

  * __Achilles xoxo__



 

Patroclus smiled stupidly at the note, glad Achilles wasn’t there to see the reaction, and pulled out his phone.  

 _Guess what I’m wearing?_ He wondered if Achilles could hear the smile in his voice.

_“Hopefully nothing.”_

That and hearing Achilles’ voice for the second time in twenty four hours had almost been enough to get him through his night shift at the restaurant. He told himself that anyway-- told himself that it had _almost_ been enough, when in reality it had been more than enough. Patroclus had gotten very good at believing lies since being taken from his father-- he had gotten even better at believing his own lies.

 

\---

 

There was a time with Alexandros, something Patroclus often has to remind himself of. It was a time marked by fake love and almost happiness, just as it was marked by unhealthy dependency and brilliant lies. He doesn’t wish to go back to living that way anytime soon, and yet even still he couldn’t stop himself from diving head first into _whatever_ this thing was with Achilles.

 

\---

 

Patroclus went for a run with Pontus after his shift. After running to the point of near exhaustion he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to talk himself into sit ups. Achilles was, for all intents and purposes, a variable greek god. Patroclus scolded himself for making such a cliche analogy, but divinity was the only way he felt he could describe Achilles’ beauty and do it justice. His muscles were toned and perfect in a way silicon couldn’t so much as hope to mimic. His hair was a bright gold-- soft strands like sunlight itself. His eyes were dark green flecked with gold, like a forest in the middle of summer. Patroclus couldn’t decide who would be more envious of his lover’s looks: Apollo and Eros.

As he finished sliding on his dress shoes, italian leather and also sent by Achilles, Patroclus decided that it shouldn’t be old gods he worried about making jealous. It should be old boyfriends. He smiled to himself as he left to meet the car Achilles had sent for him. Alexandros would lose if he saw Patroclus with Achilles.

 

\---

 

“I knew that color would look good on you. It’s one of my favorite colors, you know.” Achilles whispered in his ear, his hands wrapped tightly around Patroclus’ waist. Patroclus, despite both himself the fact that they were surrounded by nearly a thousand people (all thousands of whom seemed hell bent on vying for Achilles’ attention), felt himself grow warm with adoration. The touch was so familiar that it made everything else that was going on around them melt away. It felt so intimate, like it was just the two of them alone there listening to Frank Sinatra and feeding one another sushi. Patroclus closed his eyes and let the warmth spread through him.

“Thank you. I had been worried I wouldn’t be able to pull it off but,” Patroclus paused, eyes scanning the crowd than going back to Achilles before closing again “but I’m glad you like it.”

Achilles moved even closer to him, and Patroclus felt his smile against the shell of his ear. The smile then turned into a frown as another well wisher approached.

“Achilles, I’m sorry to interrupt but I just had to stop in and give my congratulations while I could. Trying to get a moment to speak with you is like trying to speak the Prime Minister at a press conference.” Said a man’s voice. It sounded honest and friendly-- the kind of guy you’d hire to voice a disney prince. Patroclus almost imagined a cartoon Hercules standing before him.

“Many thanks.” Achilles said, using his (what Patroclus had dubbed to be his) _forced to be friendly_ voice. “And I agree with you, Hector, this party is almost a mad house.”

Hector.

_Hector._

Patroclus flinched as if he had been struck. Achilles seemed to notice this and his arms wrapped even tighter around Patroclus’ waist and his chin came to rest on his shoulder. Patroclus kept his eye closed and tried to tell himself that there were probably millions of other men named Hector in the world, and that the likelihood of the man before him being Hector Troy was very much improbable.

“Oh, my apologizes! I completely forgot to introduce myself to your….uh- friend here,” Hector said again, sounding rather exasperated with himself.

“My _boyfriend_.” Achilles corrected, voice sharp and arms wrapping tighter around Patroclus, as if mistaking them for anything other than lovers was a grave offense to him. “Patroclus, this is Hector Troy”

Patroclus opened his eyes. He managed to stop himself from flinching again, but nothing could be done about the way his right eye twitched or how he pulled his lips into a thin but quivering line.

 _“Patroclus, this is Hector Troy.”_ Achilles had said like Hector was the most inconsequential person in the world.

 _I know who he is._ Patroclus wanted to say, wanted to spit in Hector’s face and ask what he thought of him now.

 _I know who he is._ He wanted to say, to crumple up in on himself and ask about Alexandros.

“It's so nice to meet you, Hector.” Is what he actually said, forcing his face to contort into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

 _“It’s so nice to meet you, Hector.”_ He had said, using the same dismissive tone Hector had used on him two years prior. If Achilles thought nothing of Hector, than Patroclus would to. Or rather, he would pretend to anyway.

Hector gave him a once over, eyes following the lines of his body in the too-bold-too-tight suit Achilles had picked out for him. Patroclus wanted to laugh at how different _this_ look was from the one Hector had first given him when they first met, when Patroclus was in ripped up jeans and torn sneakers.

“I'm sorry, Patroclus, but you seem so familiar.” Hector’s eyes were squinted in concentration and there was an embarrassed edge to his voice. “Again I'm sorry for asking this but, do I know you from anywhere?”

“No.” Achilles answered before Patroclus could think of anything cleaver or snappy enough to say. His arms were still a vice around his waist. “Patroclus isn't some vain fame obsessed brat like _some_ people here-” _like your family_ was the unspoken insult “- he's a good and honest man. A librarian.”

“Huh,” Hector replied, trying very hard to not look completely affronted. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. Instead he rested his tongue against his cheek in a defeated manner before looking Patroclus over once more. His gaze felt heavy on Patroclus, who suddenly felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

Achilles placed a kiss on Patroclus’ temple. There was an unspoken friction between the two men and, for a moment, Patroclus worried he would be burned alive in it. Though it was not his place and he was sure he would regret it immediately after, he felt the compulsion to say something to lighten the mood. But he had no idea what to say. This wasn’t his job where he could say some half original literary pun and send Iphy into a fit of annoyed laughter. In many ways this felt more like the real world, and the past two years felt more like he had been living in the middle of a poorly written, plotless, short story.

He decided instead to excuse himself and hide in the restrooms for a few minutes, but just as he was about to Achilles pulled away from him and said: “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a speech to make.”

Hector gave a curt nod and left without saying anything further. Anxiety boiled under Patroclus’ skin, and he suddenly felt very exposed and out of place without the possessive embrace to hide behind.

“Can I get a kiss for good luck?” Achilles asked. There was something almost boyish in the way he asked and his sickly sweet smile that made Patroclus roll his eyes.

He still felt unsure about the strange interaction he had just had with Hector and insecure about all the people around them, but he leaned in and pressed their lips together all the same. The kiss deepened just as the sounds of the party died down- Patroclus could vaguely make out the sound of a woman talking over the sound of his heart own heart beating. He opened his mouth in reaction to Achilles’ tongue sliding against his lips, but just as he did Achilles pulled away.

Patroclus stood there, face flushed and seeing stars for a few seconds. By the time he managed to ground himself back in reality Achilles was already halfway to the stage.

 _I doubt he needs me for good luck._ Patroclus found himself thinking as he watched Achilles.

The woman who had been talking handed him a microphone as he joined her. She had to be well over six feet tall, even if she were to take her concernedly tall heels off, and her skin was so devoid of pigment that Patroclus could see some of her darker blue veins under the harsh lights of the makeshift stage. As if she felt his gaze she turned to him, perfect ebony hair not moving from its sculpted updo. She met his curious gaze with a challenging glare.

“Thank you, mother.” Achilles said to her warmly.

At this all coldness within her died and she looked to her son with a warmth and love that Patroclus would not have thought possible of her just moments before. She turned to look at Achilles once more, almost forgetting Patroclus entirely.

_Mother._

Patroclus bit down a well of emotions at the thought of his own mother and instead tried to remember if Achilles has mentioned anything about her beforehand.

“Anything for you, my treasure.” She said. Patroclus noticed how sharp her voice sounded, even in such a soft tone. She turned to look back Patroclus, her gaze twice as cold as it was before. “ _Anything.”_

Patroclus shrunk back against the railing. Had Achilles told her he loved him? Had Achilles said anything about their relationship or had she just simply seen them interacting tonight and think he was some gold digger? _Maybe she treats all his lovers this way._ Patroclus tried reason, telling himself that most (decent) parents would have a right to take an interest in their children’s lives, and that had he been born to an actual family he might have understood that concept a little better.

Achilles waited for the crowd to fully quiet down before he started his speech.

“All my life I've grown up with stories of my father-” Patroclus followed where Achilles pointed to a greying man in the crowd and once more tried not to think of his own home life “- and his band touring the world.

“I grew up with seeing my mother’s side of the family grow to be titans in the music industry,” he gestured to a back corner of the party where a small group of nicely dressed men and women returned the gesture with a small nod or smile. “And from a very early age I knew that this was what I wanted to do-- that making music was my destiny.”

The crowd gave a soft applause so Achilles paused. During the pause he smiled, almost to himself, then looked over at Patroclus. The two made eye contact across the party. Patroclus tried to ignore the chills of excitement that ran down his spine as they did.

“Speaking of destiny,” Achilles said moments before it seemed almost too private for his speech. . His voice was reverent and soft, a contrast to the bold and self assured tone he used just moments ago.

“I-” He started, his smile growing so wide that it seemed almost petulant. He stopped, his words catching in his throat and emitting a nervous laugh. “I have to give my thanks to my muse, whom I’ve already written a dozen songs about. Patroclus,” he gestured then to Patroclus, who nearly toppled over in shock. “I love you. Let me say it again, Patroclus, I love you. I love you I love you I love you. I’ve never been happier and it’s not because of this record deal, baby, it’s because of you.”

He finished talking, an angelic but somewhat nervous smile still on his face. Patroclus flushed to the tip of his ears even despite his dark skin and gripped a nearby railing to keep himself from toppling over. Somewhere from inside of his own mind he heard a small voice mocking him. He had gone from someone who saw him only as means to an end, someone who didn’t care about him at all, to someone who seemed completely and wholly obsessed with him. He tried to calm down by telling himself that he would be able to find some dark humor in this when it was all over. If it was ever over.

The moment stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and Patroclus looked away from Achilles to the crown to find almost every party goers eyes on him. He gaped. His whole body felt hot now. He was embarrassed and somewhat convinced that this was all a cruel prank set up by Alexandros. Achilles saw his open mouth as a sign that he wished to say something and nodded at him encouragingly. More eyes turned to look at Patroclus.

“I- I completely agree, Achilles,” Patroclus heard himself saying. His voice shook a little as he said Achilles’ name, but even so he was still amazed at how almost calm he sounded. “Our time together has been...something completely unbelievable.”

He forced himself to smile as a means of signaling that he had said all he had to say, and the party goers applauded for him just as they had applauded for Achilles. Through the haze of his anxiety he managed to notice a few “isn’t that adorable”s and “awww I wish my boyfriend were that romantic”. Luckily for Patroclus, the second they finished applauding the guests turned back to Achilles. Now out of the spotlight, Patroclus allowed himself let out a terse breath and slump against the roof’s side railing.

He was halfway back to calm when he saw Hector’s eyes on him from across the party. There was a glint in them, something like righteousness or disgust, as he gave Patroclus another one over. This look was much more like the original look Hector had given him-- judgmental and not at all like the appreciative look from just moments before. Patroclus felt the blood in his veins freeze over once again. He had been recognized. 

When the Troy family “visited” the orphanage they had made a point of not being inside of the building any longer than it took to film their special, and they had been good about not talking to any of the boys aside from Alexandros. Patroclus and Hector had not talked before tonight-- the only previous interaction they had being when Hector looked over all of the orphanage’s residents and the way they had all lined up down the hallway to Alex’s room to see what was going on and maybe catching sight of Patroclus glaring out of a window as he watched Alex get into their family limo and leave him forever. Hector would have no way of remembering him or knowing who he was. Which meant that if he had been recognized someone would have had to tell him, and that someone would have had to be--

Patroclus broke eye contact and instead started his desperate search for an exit. Alexandros had to have be there. He knew it. He could feel it in very much the same way a man feels the hair rise on the back of his neck just before he is struck by lightning.  And while he was still confused over what he felt for Achilles (and knew he would probably feel guilty for leaving him later) he couldn’t make himself care about anything was wasn’t getting off of that roof as soon as possible.

He would rather be struck by actual lighting thrice over before seeing his ex again.

He saw it then just as that thought entered his mind, his salvation: a bright red exit sign pointing to a stairwell. He headed towards it with purposed. A few of the guests nodded or smiled at him as he passed, he kept his eyes down and ignored them. He reached the door and leaned against the handle with all his weight, holding onto it like a lifeline, and just as he turned it to open it he felt a pair of arms wrap about his body. He saw blonde hair bunch up on his shoulder and felt a steady heartbeat against his back. He flinched at the contact, body going rigid. This was it. This was Alexandros here to embarrass him or verbally tear him to shreds or maybe have Hector tear him in half.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Patroclus felt his whole body relax at the sound of Achilles beautiful-- beautiful beautiful beautifully not at all like Alexandros’-- voice. His hand fell off of the handle and he forced himself to breath.  

“Uh,” He sputtered. He couldn’t lie to Achilles but he also couldn’t tell him the truth either. “Just going out for some air.”

Achilles loosened his grip on Patroclus and pulled back. Patroclus looked over his shoulder and saw him smile knowingly.

“So eager to leave already?” He said, a teasing tone in his voice. “If I had known that public declarations got you going like this I would have made a dozen more by now. I can feel your heart beating through your skin, Carmelcake.”

Patroclus could think of nothing less sexy, nothing more anxiety inducing or horrible, than what he had just endured thanks to Achilles’ public declaration, but he found himself nodding dumbly all the same. “What- what can I say? When I’m with you it feels like I’ve been swept up in a hurricane.”

The reply was a bit awkward and not much of a proper answer, but it seemed good enough for Achilles who leaned in and pressed a kiss to Patroclus’ neck.

“Why don’t you go ahead outside and wait for me in the car. I have to talk business with the Trojan family but I’ll be out as quickly as possible,” his hands slide down from Patroclus’ waist to his ass and gave it a squeeze. “But feel free to get started without me.”

Patroclus, not for the first time that night, almost choked on nothing but his own embarrassment. “But what about Automedon? I doubt you pay him enough for that.”

Achilles laughed low in his throat. It was the same condescending laugh he had used on Patroclus the first night they met. Sex had been the furthest thing on Patroclus’ mind before this, but Achilles was making it seem more and more desirable by the second.

“Just tell him to roll up the partition before you get...started.” Achilles bit his hip, his hands never leaving Patroclus’ ass.

Patroclus pulled away stiffly, covering up his coolness with a playful push and roll of his eyes.

“Fine,” he forced himself to say “but don’t keep me waiting. Remember what happened on the ride back to my apartment last week.”

“How could I forget?”

Achilles reached for him again, but Patroclus stepped into the stairwell. Behind Achilles the party was moving and people were mingling, seemingly oblivious to their guest of honor’s absence, and Patroclus had lost track of Hector in the commotion.

“Go on. The sooner you get that business talk over with the sooner we can go back to your suite.”

That was enough for Achilles, who gave him one last smile and a “see you soon” before turning back to rejoin his party. Patroclus spared a moment to watch him go before all but diving into the stairwell and running down to the exit.

He never thought he would be so happy to see Automedon.

 

\---

 

Patroclus felt Achilles shift in the bed next to him. It was nothing unusual-- Achilles was like an endless well of energy. He was constantly moving, constantly shaking his legs or pacing or tossing and turning, so he kept his eyes clothes and tried to go back to sleep. He was so dead exhausted that he had almost managed to fall back asleep when he felt a finger trace along the side of his arm and up his neck. Patroclus kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, feigning sleep, and let the finger explore his jaw line.

He felt more than heard Achilles give off a gentle sigh, and the finger that had been toying with the shell of his hair went up into his hairline, tracing a gentle pattern under his dark curls. Patroclus allowed himself the luxury of leaning into the touch ever so slightly. However, just as soon as he did he felt Achilles untangle himself from Patroclus and get out of the bed. Footsteps padded across the floor a desk.

“Achilles?” Patroclus asked, his voice thick with sleep and a frown splitting his face.

Achilles looked back at the bed, a soft smile on his face, and flicked a table lamp on. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. He shifted so his head was resting on Achilles’ pillow. “Come back to bed.”

“I will in just a second.”

Achilles turned from him and started writing something down. As he did Patroclus heard him humming a gentle tune to himself.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect, Carmelcake.” He said, and Patroclus could hear the smile in his voice. “I just got an idea for another song. It’s about you.”

 

\---

 

Achilles and Automedon gave Patroclus a ride back to his apartment the next day after dinner.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just quit your job.” Achilles pouted.

“Because,” Patroclus said and leaned in to press their lips together. “As much fun as I’m sure it would be to be your trophy boyfriend, I’d eventually go crazy from boredom.”

“You could be my trophy husband instead. I’ve heard trophy husbands have way more fun than trophy boyfriends.” Achilles said, sounding serious despite how ludicrous the suggestion was.

Patroclus panicked at the mention of marriage, and leaned in for another kiss. If anything, to distract Achilles from his train of thought. Patroclus wasn’t sure he could handle any talk of marriage, however hypothetical or innocent, after last night.

“There are libraries where I live too, you know.” Achilles said when they pulled apart. “There have to be at least three in the greater municipal area of Athens, or I could even help you get a cooler job.”

Patroclus rolled his eyes good naturedly at the unintended insult. He grabbed the edges of Achilles’ coat lapels and pulled them close again, this time so their foreheads were pressed against each other. “I happen to think being a librarian is a perfectly cool profession.”

He could feel Achilles’ face shift into another childlike pout, so he added “But if it makes you happy, I’ll look into job openings in your city.”

“Really?” Achilles’ voice sounded elated, as bright as the sun, and he kissed Patroclus again.

“Really.”

Patroclus pulled back and pressed a kiss into his hairline. Despite the fact it had been at least a decade since the last time he had pouted so acted so outright puerile, he found himself mirroring Achilles’ facial expression. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Patroclus.” Achilles sighed. “At least your apartment’s as small as it is-” _another unintended insult_ “-my place is huge! It feels so empty without you.”

“I could always come stay with you the next time get a weekend off.” He found himself saying. He managed to leave off the fact that it would there would probably be another parliamentary election long before such a miracle would ever occur again.

But Achilles, as oblivious to the plight of the working class as ever, was already smiling again. “That would be cool! I could take you by the studio and let you watch me record. Or maybe we could go shopping-- oh! I can take you to all my favorite restaurants. You think that place you have on mainstreet was good? Just wait until you try my guy Theo’s gyros.”

“It sounds fun.” Patroclus said evenly. He had to look away after he said it-- Achilles’ enthusiasm was almost too much for him. “I’ll let you know, then, next time it happens.”

“Okay.”

It looked like Achilles was going to say something else, but before he could Automedon honked the horn.

“I hate to interrupt, sirs, but if we don’t leave now you might miss your flight.” Auto said, avoiding all eye contact and looking incredibly uncomfortable. For a brief moment Patroclus wondered if he wouldn’t be the only one looking for new employment over the next few weeks.

Achilles let out a loud frustrated sigh, almost as if he blamed his driver for the plane’s scheduled boarding time. “I guess I should head on then.”

“I guess you should...I have work in the morning anyway, so this is probably for the best.”

Achilles leaned forward, yet another kiss, then pulled away for before could process. “I love you, babe. I’ll call you as soon as I land, yeah?”

“Love you too.” Was all Patroclus said, a rushed out version of the phrase. He still wasn’t used to saying it-- it felt far too early for him-- but he didn’t want to not say it and risk ruining things with Achilles.

“Okay, bye.” Achilles smiled to himself, but didn’t unwrap his arms from around Patroclus’ waist.

“Bye.” Patroclus said and tried to pull away, but Achilles’ grip around him was too strong. He rolled his eyes. “It’s almost as if you _want_ to miss your flight.”

Achilles feigned an innocent curiosity and cocked his head to the side, a loose strand of golden hair falling out of his hair tie as he did. “Now why would I want to do that?”

Patroclus was about to saying sarcastic, but Automedon interrupted them once more.

“Sir, please. Your mother will have my head if I don’t get you back before the weekend.”

Patroclus pressed a chaste kiss to Achilles’ cheek and Achilles unwrapped his arms from around his waist. “I’ll call you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

Patroclus took a risk then, and with a mischievous smile said “I know.”

He turned and walked up to his apartment without another word. He could feel Achilles’ amused stare on him the entire way up the stairs yet again, but this time it didn’t make him so uncomfortable. He wondered if Achilles could feel his gaze as he watched the car pull out of the apartment building and onto the road from his window.

He wondered if Achilles could feel the way he kept watching the road, long after he and Automedon were out of sight.

 

\---

 

Patroclus went back to work the next morning, and for a very brief moment everything seemed fine. Normal.

His alarm went off at six. He picked Pontus up from his landlord after breakfast and the two went on a quick run at sunrise before coming back. Patroclus got in his shower-- cold water freezing him to his core just like always.

He was even late for the but, just like always. Only today things were different. Instead of forcing him to chase after it for the next four blocks, the bus driver had waited for him. _For him specifically._

“Oh good, I was a bit worried you weren’t going to need a ride today.” She said.

Patroclus was a little taken aback, but decided that far stranger things had happened to him over the last week and ignored it. Instead he thanked her and went to pay.

“Oh, no charge for you, honey.” She smiled, her wrinkled face stretching into something strange.

Patroclus did his best to smile back and let out a slightly shaken “thank you” before he turned to find a seat. All the seats on the bus were taken, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. This _was_ the only form of public transportation to be found for the next 40 miles. He resolved to do what he usually did, which was find some empty floor space and and stand for the next few blocks, when he saw Ajax, the volunteer from a few weeks ago, stand up.

“Patroclus, dude, here you go.”

“Oh, are you sure about that AJ?” Patroclus asked.

At hearing Patroclus call their friend “AJ” the group of boys that had been crowded around the young man all let out some form of _“that’s so sick dude”_ or _“yo man that’s so cool”._ Ajax cracked a wide smile and turned back to them.

“I told you I knew him.” He said with the same tone Patroclus imagined he used after making a touchdown. He then turned back to Patroclus with his best attempt at a casual look and said: “Dude, totally. No sense for you to stand for so long. My stop’s coming up anyway.”

Something in the back of his brain told him to back. He wrote it off as the same part of his brain that refused to forget or forgive any perceived “great” wrong done to him-- a series of nasty run-ins with his high school quarterback being on these things-- and he took the seat anyway.

“Thanks,” he muttered and pushed past the gang of boys to the seat. He placed his work bag in his lap and tried his best to avoid eye contact with anyone else.

That was when he noticed the group, Ajax included, all staring at him with rapt attention. He was used to the dead-eyed glares he got from students when checking out their school’s mandatory reading (he actually recognized a few of them from this past summer); and he was used to looks of disgust and judgment (another memory of the Trojan family caused an acidic taste to burn in his mouth). He had even grown somewhat used to looks of love and lust thanks to Achilles, but this was something entirely different. These were looks of admiration and awe, the kind a librarian living in a dumpy town should never be able to inspire. He felt himself chaffing so he tried to start up a conversation with Ajax.

He didn’t know much about the kid other than the fact he spent 90% of his life glued to his phone and the other 10% playing football. Lucky for him the most exciting thing about their small town was high school football; which meant most local radio and newspapers never failed to report their school’s most recent game.

“Good luck at your time tonight, AJ.”

“Oh- dude. Wow!” Ajax beamed. Patroclus never thought he would make someone twice his height (and with twice as much facial hair as him) gush like a schoolgirl, but again, weirder things had been happening to him. “I mean- thanks, man. I do pretty good I guess.”

“I score two touchdowns at the last game!” Another guy said. He had dark hair and avoided eye contact. Much like Ajax, after his initial statement he calmed back down and attempted a more casual, downplayed, town. “Which, you know, is pretty cool or whatever.”

“I beat the record last season.” Ajax butted back in.

Patroclus could only fake an impressed look and nod at that. He was lost when it came to everything that wasn’t written by Shakespeare or Virgil.

A moment of silence passed as the bus lurched to a stop just outside the town deli. Patroclus let himself fall quiet. He hopped the boys would realize how boring he was and leave him alone. A few elderly people passed by and a few seats next to and across from him opened up. Ajax and the dark hair kid fought for the seat next to him. The dark haired kid lost and instead settle for the seat across from him.

Patroclus bit his lip and wondered if he had fallen into some _Twilight Zone_ esque alternate universe sometime last thursday. He decided either that or someone had slipped something into his drink at the signing party last night, and this was panning out to be the world’s most mundane drug trip.

Either that or Ajax had crush on him.

He bit down on his lip harder to keep himself from laughing at that. He was sure he had used up all of his good karma points in getting Achilles. Besides, what the hell would some high school kid on his way to going semi-pro want with a librarian.

The bus lurched forward and as soon as it did the boys started up their chatter again. It took Patroclus a few seconds to realize Ajax had been talking to him.

“-again I understand if you, like, don’t want to, or whatever, but kick off it at 6:30 and it would be super cool if you went. Again I get it if you’re too busy or whatever.”

Patroclus had to stop himself from laughing again. Not so much from the sheer humor of the situation but more so from shock. Was Ajax really asking him to go to his game? And was he blushing?

Patroclus’ mind formulated about ten different ways to let the kid down gently, and then another five of how to escape-- one of which included him simply opening the window behind him and jumping out)-- but he felt himself blanch. All of Ajax’s friends had crowded around tighter now, the dark haired one leaning closer in.

“I’d love to,” Patroclus said. “It would be great to get out and do something--” that won’t end in my public humiliation “-- different for once.”

“Killer!” Ajax exclaimed. He reached across the aisle and high fived some of his friends, then turned to Patroclus with his fist held out. Patroclus took the hint and fist bumped Ajax, probably the most awkward thing he would ever do.

The bus stopped again, this time just down the street from the high school.

“Thanks again dude. I’ll see you tonight.” He got up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder then turned to his friends and said: “Man, just wait until I tell coach.”

A few of the guys patted him on the back as they left and Patroclus willed himself not to flinch at the contact. He returned a few of their goodbyes.

When they were all off and the bus started moving again, he left himself slump in his seat. He remembered hearing something about one of Alexandros’ sisters being a psychic, and he wondered, for a brief moment, if Alex and gotten her to place some sort of curse on him. Or if he had used one of his family’s extensive connections to somehow put him in a medically induced coma. Or if he should consider rewatching Matrix to see if any similarities to his life appeared.

He could probably pull off a leather trench coat.

He smiled to himself, he reached in his bag for his phone, intent of telling Achilles both about the interaction and about his weird thoughts. After rummaging through his bag for a few minutes and all but dumping out on the seat next to him he realized, with a rising sense of dread, that he had left his phone at him. If this had happened a month he wouldn’t have cared that much-- he used the thing for music and reading almost exclusively-- but now he that he actually had someone to text while he was at work, he felt more than half tempted to get off the bus and run back to his apartment.

The bus came to its stop, his stop, and he decided against it. The bus driver gave him a very warm goodbye, and he thought he heard something about “still takes the bus-- so humble” as he stepped onto the street. He was to distract with the fact that the driver had driven well past the designated bus stop and parked right in front of the library to pay it any mind.

He shook his head as if to shake the weird morning from him and went on into work.

God. He missed work. Work was boring. Work made sense. Work was the exact same thing day in and day out. No one cared who he was or if he went to their football game or if he had a seat on the bus at work.

As soon as he got in work he ducked in the circulations office, craving the sense of privacy that it offered as well as the eternal silence that fell over the library. He was ready for a long boring day of sorting books and helping confused old people. (and maybe, if he was lucky, returning home to some cute text messages from Achilles)

But before he could even sit down at his desk a magazine _with his face on it_ was slammed on his desk.

“PATROCLUSHOLYFUCK!” Iphigenia yelled, not caring about their quiet policy or the whole bagel she had just shoved in her mouth.

He would have reacted to her volume if he could have made himself look away from the magazine _with his face on it._ It wasn’t just _his_ face either. No there was Achilles too. Pictures of him standing next to Achilles. Pictures of him being held by Achilles. Picture of him making out with Achilles. All cluttered under bold print that read: _Greece’s sweetheart, Achilles Peleides, has found a sweetheart of his own._ And just slight further down and to the left of that was: _“He’s my soulmate. My muse. My whole world.” Says the singer (age 21) about his boyfriend Patroclus (thought to be around the same age, though not much else is known about Achilles’ mysterious new arm candy)._

Patroclus felt his left eye twitch. “I- I- uh- I-” he sputtered out.

This had to be some kind of a joke. Alexandros probably had this made and sent it into the library as a prank. Or maybe Patroclus had let something about the party slip to Briseis the other day, and she had told Iphegenia. Yeah, that had to be it. This was just a prank from Iphigenia-- knowing her it was probably her own way of apologizing for being a no call no show the last few days.

“I- I- I- uh-” Iphy mocked, pointing down at the magazine as if he hadn’t seen it. “Is that all you have to say for yourself? I leave you for three days, Patroclus, three days!, and you run off and fuck the most famous guy in Greece.”

Most famous guy in Greece. Greece’s sweetheart. Achilles.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead he was left staring in shock at the picture him and Achilles’ mouths and bodies pressed together in a less than family friendly way. He shook his head and looked up at her.

Even if he could make himself articulate the absolutely fuckery he had just been through, he doubt she would have believed him. Or, for that matter, had much sympathy.

“I met him after you left at that bar.” He finally said. Outside the circulations desk he heard the doors open and a school group come in. Normally he loved field trips, especially with this age group, but he couldn’t stop himself from cursing the timing.

“You….?” She asked, sounding incredulous. “You met him in a bar two weeks ago for some sleazy bathroom stall hook up and now you’re the love of his life and spending the night in his 6-star hotel suites?”

He blushed at the crude way she had described their love making, but he had long since grown used to her. “How- how did you even know about last night?”

“Page 23, honey.” She picked the magazine up and flipped to the page. Patroclus stared down in muted horror once more.

Pictures of him and Achilles leaving the party early last night. Pictures of them entering the hotel. Pictures of them leaving the hotel the next morning-- Patroclus very obviously wearing Achilles’ t-shirt. All there in unforgiving high definition for god knows who to see.

 _He’s an obsessive probably psychopath but he’s gorgeous and I think I’m falling in love with him_ Is what he wanted to say. It was the truth, really, but there was no way she (or anyone else) would believe that. So what he said was: “We bonded.”

“You,” she raised her hands and made air quotes around the next word “bonded.” She scoffed and a piece of bagel flew out of mouth. “Seriously, Patroclus how good are in bed? Because you’ve got to be a _fucking sex god.”_

“Keep your voice down, Iphy!” He hissed, looking back out at the main area. The teachers were still trying to keep the kids in line, so lucky none had overheard that. “There are _children_ here.”

“There are also teachers here. Very lonely teachers. Very desperate teachers.” She said. She used the same teasing tone in her voice that she always did, the one Patroclus normally loved, but Patroclus found himself particularly annoyed by it today. “How far away is your sugar daddy again? If the answer is anything over than 50 miles, then you have the go-ahead.”

“Okay, first of all he is not my sugar daddy.” Patroclus pushed back from the desk, pulling down his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Second of all I would never cheat on him.”

He stood and rolled his eyes. Iphigenia seemed to have gotten the reaction she wanted out of him, because the annoyed glare he shot at her only made her cackle with delight.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me I have third graders to entertain.”

 

\---

 

The third grade tour had always been Patroclus’ favorite part of his job. Second graders were at the perfect age to get them into reading, and a good portion of them were already at an advanced enough reading level that he could get them hooked on Harry Potter or Percy Jackson, and by the time they were third graders their interest in reading had snowballed into full blown obsessions with certain series or authors. Patroclus loved to nurture their love of reading.  

They were bright eyed and happy to be somewhere new. They asked questions-- “Mr. P! Mr. P! What’s your favorite book?” “Mr. P! Mr. P! Can _I_ be a librarian when I grow up?” “Mr. P! Mr. P! Have you ever read Nancy Drew? She’s my favorite!”-- and they always looked to genuinely happy to be alive. The latter sentiment was normally a stark contrast from their teachers, who always looked three seconds away from snapping at the next kid to step out of line. They usually saw this as a break for them, meaning they usually went off to crowd around the coffee pot located by the front door and left him in charge of the thirty-something students. Not that he minded. But for whatever reason a few of the teachers looked far less exhausted than usual, and most of them even insisted on following along for the tour.

Patroclus tried to tell himself how wonderful it was that the teachers were actually taking an interest in their student’s education for once, if anything to help get that horrid magazine cover out of his head, and encouraged them to come along.

For the most part it wasn’t bad. Save for some behind the hand whispering and laughing from the teachers-- something Patroclus tried and failed to tell himself was _not_ at his expense-- everything went as usual. The kids would get excited when they saw a cool book cover, or when they saw their favorite cartoon character’s section. They all wanted to play with what little toys the kid’s section of the library had to offer. He even thinks he managed to convince a few of them to check out some of his own childhood favorites.

It wasn’t until “question time” at the end of the tour that things took a turn for the worst.

“So, does anyone have any questions about the library or how to check out books?” He asked, looking down at the mini sea of brightly dressed children.

Several of them raised their hands in the exaggerated way that all children moved, but before he could pick one to call on one of the teachers butted in.

“Is he nice? He seems nice and all the magazines say he is, but is he, like, _really_ nice?” She asked, her forefinger resting on the bridge of her red reading glasses and her _“I’m still in denial that the 80’s was thirty years ago”_ perm tucked behind her.

“Uh- well,” He faltered, genuinely confused. In the last hour he had gotten so caught up with the kids that he had forgotten about his weird morning. “That would depend on who you’re talking about, I guess.” He gave an awkward smile.

She smiled knowingly at him. “Achilles. Is he really nice?”

“And is he really a blonde? I heard from my sister-in-law’s cousin who used to be a receptionist at this one hair studio that he gets his hair bleached twice a year.” Another teacher asked.

“Oh, uh,” He started. He felt himself blush at his own embarrassment and the mention of something as personal to him as his relationship with Achilles in his place of work. “Yes, he’s- he’s really nice. A dream, really. I don’t know if he’s a natural blonde or not, but he hasn’t said anything to the contrary.”

The two women nodded enthusiastically. He looked back down at the kids. “Okay, how about some questions from you guys now, yeah?”

The kids raised their hands again. He pointed at a little girl in pigtails and a kitten jumper (he thought he had known her mother from the orphanage but he wasn’t sure-- he hadn’t bothered to keep up with anyone after Alex left), but before he could talk a third teacher interrupted her.

“Can I--”

“Hold that thought, Miss Sanna.” He said, standing 6’2 and intimidating. Patroclus wondered briefly if the guy had ever seen the kindergarten cops, or if he saw the humor in his build. “I was wondering if, um,” he side stepped passed a few kids so he was closer to Patroclus, his voice now barely above a whisper “if it’s true is Achilles is as _generous_ as they say?”

“Generous?” Patroclus stepped back a little, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Yeah,” he said with a wicked smile and encouraging nod. He then repeated: “ _Generous._ ”

The meaning finally hit Patroclus, and he took another step back with wide eyes. He felt another blush encompass his whole face.

“Alright you guys have been wonderful but I have a- uh- meeting to attend right now, actually.” He looked down at his watch. “And I’m actually late for it too, so question time is over. Thank you all for coming and be sure to have your parents bring you back by.”

A few of the kids let out a chorus of disappointed _“awww”s_ that broke Patroclus’ heart, but he pushed passed them and all but ran back into his office. He plopped down in his hair, his head in his hands.

“So, how’d it go?” Iphigenia asked, her teasing tone back again.

He only groaned in response.

“That bad?”

He nodded, right hand still cradling his forehead.

“Cheer up. Seriously, there are worse things in life than having a super famous sugar daddy.”

“Iphy, for the last time he is not my sugar daddy. He’s my boyfriend.”

“So you’re having sex with him for free? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because I-” he started, exasperation obvious in his voice, but stopped before he said much else. She was probably just trying to get a rise out of him anyway.

He lifted his head long enough to look at his watch again.

“It’s 12 now.” He said. “I get off at 4.”

“Planning your union mandated lunch break?”

“No, more like my stress mandated suicide.”

“You’re pretty smart, Patroclus. I’m sure you could come up with plenty of creative ways to kill yourself before your shift ends.” She said, sensing that her sarcasm was welcome for once. He was on the verge of replying back with an equally barbed _“thank you”_ when she added: “of course, your sudden death would only make your life more of a media circus than it already is and--”

“Iphy, shut the hell up. And if you say the phrase “ _sugar daddy”_ one more time I will beat my own brains in with the closest copy of _Crime and Punishment_.”

“Am I the only one who sees the irony in that?” A new voice asked shyly behind them.

Patroclus spun in his chair his chair to see Briseis standing in the office door. He smiled at her warmly and motioned for her to come in.

“It’s good to see you again.” He smiled.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice quieter than the last time she volunteered with him. “I hope I am not interrupting anything?”

“No. Just Iphigenia being herself. Feel free to ignore her.”

She finally looked away from the floor long enough to return his smile. She then looked away from him and to his co-worker.

“Oh right, Iphigenia this is Briseis, the new volunteer. Briseis, this is Iphegenia. She works here with me.” He left out the part about “work” being more of a hypothetical description in her situation. Unless you counted reading magazines and stuffing your face for six hours a day as work.

The two women nodded at each other. Patroclus turned back to his desk and almost screamed when he saw the magazine cover still there. He muttered a curse to himself and covered it up with a stack of _“Athens Today”_.

That was when he saw it in bright bold letters: **_Paris Troy to be wed to fellow model Helen._ **

He felt his eye twitch again as he kept read the smaller text under it. _“While it is unsure at this time how long these two have been together or why Helen left her husband, Menelaus (a music producer) it’s safe to say that more details will be leaked to the press soon.”_

Below that still was a picture of the two. “Paris” with his bleached hair pulled back in a tight bun and decked out in a patterned suit, and next to him a beautiful woman, who he assumed to be Helen, looking more like a captive in her bright red dress than a woman in love.

Patroclus felt a sudden desire to burn down every magazine publisher from here to But instead of letting his anger get the best of him, he did what he had been doing with his Alexandros-caused emotions for the last two years: he swallowed it down and ignored it.

Patroclus turned back to Iphigenia as quickly as he could, the image of _Paris’s_ stupid smiling face burned into his memory. In his haste to look away, he missed the quote Alexandros had given the magazine following his engagement announcement:

_“Sometimes you just know what’s right and you have got to know to take back what’s yours, even if what’s yours is already somebody else’s. You have to be willing to do anything-- and I mean anything-- for love.”_

 

\---

 

The rest of the day passed in an unmentionable blur. Patroclus spent most of the day hiding away in the circulations office pretending to email out overdue notices, and Iphigenia taught Briseis how to take over front desk duty.

He was practically bolting out the door by 3:59. He didn’t care if he seemed rude or not to Briseis (though he was sure he would feel bad about it later all the same) he just needed to get back home to his apartment. His apartment where Pontus was waiting with wet kisses and his phone was waiting with texts from Achilles. That was all he needed.

After the incident with the bus this morning, he decided to forgo public transportation. He instead walked the 10 blocks back, keeping his head low and his eyes on the ground. He managed to make it back to his place without attracting any attention, something he considered to be his biggest (and only) victory of the day.

Pontus ran up to greet him, happily licking his face and whining for attention. Patroclus was more than happy to cover him in kisses and he picked her up. He cradled her in his arms and made his way to the couch. He plopped down next to the remote, careful not to hurt Pontus, and felt a sudden wave of burning curiosity come over him.

How famous was he _really_?

He had been on the front cover of a magazine, yes, but he doubted the reaction he received today was anything to go on. He lived in a small town in an even smaller part of Greece. The most exciting thing to happen within fifty miles of it was when the shopping mall two towns over got their own McDonald’s branch. Of course the people he met with today acted so starstruck-- he was the closest thing he would ever come to actually meeting a celebrity. That in no way meant he was an _actual_ celebrity or that anyone outside of Iphigenia and those kindergarten teachers would actually care.

Pontus made a whining noise and distracted him from his thoughts. He was then interrupted from that by his phone buzzing. He admonished himself.

In all of his own selfish exhaustion and narcissistic introspection he had forgotten all about his phone. He let Pontus go and watched as he ran to the apartment window to growl at low flying birds. His phone light up again with a new text message, and he read it briefly before scrolling down to see the nearly fifty text messages Achilles had sent him since this morning.

The first few were Achilles’s typical:

_[8:03] Good Morning, Carmelcake <3 _

_[8:10] I love you <3 <3 <3 <3 _

_[8:10] I hope you have the best day ever since you’re the best guy ever <3 <3 <3 _

But as the day wore on and he received no response the tone had shifted:

_[11:50] Patroclus? Are you okay?_

_[12:00] I’m just being stupid, of course you’re okay! You’re probably just sleeping in-- which you totally deserve to haha. Sorry for bothering you, baby <3 but do call me when you get this yeah? _

_[3:00] I know I said I would stop texting, but now I’m really worried. Are you mad? Oh my gods this is about that magazine cover isn’t it? Patroclus, I am so so so so sorry. I promise I had no idea that the press were going to be there last night, or that they would put you on the cover._

As he was reading over the messages he got another two texts from Achilles, a final proof of how undone he had been from Patroclus’s silence:

_[4:10] Do you want me to kill the press? I will. I swear to you, Patroclus, I will kill all of them._

_[4:15] You’ve read my texts! You’re alive! Gods, baby, please call me we need to talk about this._

Patroclus frowned at his screen. He hadn’t meant to make Achilles so panicked. Guilt weighed down on him, and he made to call Achilles. The phone rang for a total of five seconds before Achilles picked up.

“Patroclus! I just want to say that I had no idea--”

“Achilles! It’s okay.” He said quickly. He didn’t have that much time before Ajax’s football game, and he didn’t want to waste it listening to a half emotional rant. “I should be the one apologizing, I left for work this morning and completely forgot my phone at home.’

“Oh- oh gods, so you’re not mad at me? Or seriously injured? I meant what I said when I offered to pay your medical bills.”

Patroclus had to stop himself from laughing at how ridiculously overprotective Achilles was being, lest he damage his godlike ego. “I’m fine, I promise. I was just running late this morning and it slipped my mind.”

He heard Achilles breath a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. Patroclus was at a loss for exactly what to say-- he had plenty of questions about what had happened the other night and what he should do now that people knew who he was-- but he couldn’t make himself ask any of them. His apartment was the only place he had in the world to hide from it, and Achilles was the only person he had that he could use to forget about it. He wasn’t about to ruin his sanctuaries because he couldn’t deal with a little attention.

Patroclus found himself feeling incredibly besotted in a way he had never before felt. Achilles had been so worried that Patroclus would be upset with him that he drove himself to the point of near madness in his accidental silence. He listened to Achilles’ breathing on the other end of the line. He wondered if he should say something that properly voiced how he felt, but after trying to think through of several ways to word his sentiment he gave up. His fear of seeming too needy to pushing Achilles away at such seemingly delicate time in their relationship felt far greater than his need for emotional honesty, and years of emotional isolation turned to abandonment issues (thanks to both his father and former lover) left him without the proper tools to express himself in such situations.

A flood of emotions surged through him at that moment: a mix of leftover anxiety from that morning, love for Achilles, helplessness at him, and confusion for everything. Despite that he let out a soft, breathy laugh, and murmured and even softer “how was your day, baby?” into the phone.

Achilles went silent for a moment, no doubt confused about Patroclus’ emotions and the sudden shift in topic, but answered in his ever chipper tone.

“It would have only been better, had you been here by my side.”


	2. intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made a promise, to himself and Pontus, that he would learn to open himself up and let Achilles in, just as Achilles’ own heart had opened up to him. No fear. No worry. No Alexandros. Only love, patience, and trust. Three things he had never thought that he would have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of an 8 month hole of depression and college courses* is anyone still interested in this story? 
> 
> This chapter was in the original plan, but I wrote it to bridge the gap between where act i ended and where i want act ii to begin. I also wanted to write out some emotions, and kind of get back in the swing of writing these two. I hope this is good, I feel as if I haven't written anything in so long. 
> 
> this chapter is. like. hella dedicated to Leniati is they even care about this story anymore. thank you for being super into it, and know that all of your comments always made me super happy.

If Alexandros was a tidal wave, then Achilles was a whole ocean. 

Dark, powerful, and beautiful. He was an unseen force of nature, underestimated by everyone around him. Like waves he shined bright and perfect in the day, when the sun’s golden light fell over his almost-just-as-golden curls, but in the dark of the night, when only the moon was around to give her light, he stood dark and foreboding. An unstopping force against the beaches. 

Patroclus had started to notice these small differences no less than a month after the “official” start of their relationship. The publicity scandal had made them closer than ever, in the eyes of the media anyway, and at Achilles’ insistence, and his record label’s grief, the two were spending almost every week with one another. Patroclus was now a staple in both Achilles’ private and public life, whether Patroclus liked it or not. 

He had even gotten verified on Twitter, despite having not used it since 2013. That part had made him rather nervous, but according to Achilles, the people loved him. And, Achilles always felt the need to add, that Thetis would come around in due time. While Patroclus had only met the woman one, a very awkward brunch at an expensive vegan cafe that had been organized more for the press than anything else, he doubted that any love for him would ever spring forth from wicked, heartless glances she shot at him. 

Despite this Patroclus found himself pretending to believe Achilles. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, having his mother’s approval of his relationship seemed important, and Patroclus refused to let his own cynicism about his “family” bleed onto Achilles. 

 

***

 

He didn’t heard much from  _ Paris  _ other than the occasional magazine cover that came into work. And work-- work seemed normal. After his first few weeks of Stardom people started to see him more as a humble hometown hero than an exhibit to be gawked at, and his fame actually was starting to become something of a second nature.

Things were starting to make sense again. Things were starting to feel normal for the first time in his life. He was happy: Patroclus was, for the first time since kindergarten, happy. 

At the very least, he was close enough to happy as he had ever been before, and he had made a personal promise to himself that he wasn’t going to ruin it again. He wasn’t going to over analyze anything, he wasn’t going to allow himself to become too dependant on Achilles, and he wasn’t going to get too ahead of himself in his relationship. He was going to enjoy this, whatever this was, as long as it lasted.  

Even Iphy was happy for him, which meant something as she was generally the type to take small joys in other’s suffering (a trait she had no-doubt inherited from her father.) And on top of that, things were going so well that he was able to quit his second job at the restaurant and focus on more “hobbies.” (“Hobbies” being, of course, Achilles goading Patroclus into staring at his music videos and being at every local performance he gave.) An income he got that subsequently came from Achilles, not directly, Patroclus’ pride liked to think.

Things were fine. Patroclus was happy. Everything was going great. And Patroclus most certainly was not breaking his own promise to himself. He most certainly did not find himself up at 2 A.M. overthinking everything about his relationship. Not at all.

 

***

 

As it turned out: Patroclus was very good at breaking promises. This was especially true if those promises were to himself.

 

***   
  


It was one of those nights when Patroclus realized that he didn’t know much of anything about Achilles outside of the comparisons he made to Alexandros. 

Street lights flicked outside his apartment, their light coming in and coloring his blinds a harsh yellow. He was fairly certain the only people awake in his town were himself and Pontus, who had seemed happy enough to curl into Patroclus’ side and be a makeshift therapist. And so he talked to Pontus through everything. He brought himself both to and from the brink of anxiety all as Pontus listened and wagged his tail-- his head sometimes moving to cock itself to the left or lay against Patroclus’ stomach. He wasn’t sure if what he way saying even made sense anymore, but it did help. In a way.  

What he mainly felt was some ungodly mix of guilt and panic. His whole relationship he had been comparing Achilles to either Alexandros or himself. He had no idea who Achilles, as an individual, was. He knew Achilles loved him-- he knew Achilles loved him enough not to be phased when Patroclus shied away from saying it back time and time again-- but he knew little else. He had also realized that the Alexandros-- fucking  _ Paris--  _ was still controlling his life.  _ Paris  _ was the reason he kept Achilles at arms length, as if he were an open flame and Patroclus a burn victim.  _ Paris  _ was the reason Patroclus never let Achilles in, not really.  _ Paris  _ was why, to this day, Achilles still didn’t know anything about his parents or the other ghosts of his past. 

A some point during his one-sided conversation the run had risen, and instead of the harsh glow of artificial yellow light against his blinds, his whole room glowed with the red-pinks of a new day. He scratched Pontus behind his ear and smile down at the dog. 

“You’re an awfully good listener, you know that?” 

The dog only curled itself further again his side. That made Patroclus smile even more, and for a brief moment he felt peace. Unlike the happiness he had been experiencing the last month, no sort of anxiety was alight inside of him. There was no fear of the end, or panic about his ex. There was only him, the sun rise, Pontus, and a slowly growing warmth deep inside of him.

He made a promise, to himself and Pontus, that he would learn to open himself up and let Achilles in, just as Achilles’ own heart had opened up to him. No fear. No worry. No Alexandros. Only love, patience, and trust. Three things he had never thought that he would have. 

And then, from that night on, like Alice falling down the well, or a ship on the sea losing against a raging storm, he found himself drowning in Achilles. What had started as guilt and, admittedly, no small sum of feelings, quickly gave way to obsession. He was blinded by his love for Achilles. He wanted to be around him at all times-- he wanted to be surrounded by him and he love. He wanted nothing else than to simply be  _ with  _ Achilles. 

It was like a switch had been flipped inside of him then, and suddenly everything that stood between them was too much. The distance between them, their conflicting work schedules, Achilles’ tour dates, and Patroclus’ past. It drove him crazy. A small part of his mind, the part that still hadn’t fully moved on from Alexandros, whispered warnings to him.  _ You’re too dependant. This is moving too fast. You’re going to get hurt. This will all end soon enough. You love him too much.  _ But he couldn’t bring himself to head the warning of his own mind. He was already in too deep. Water had filled his lungs and he was at peace.

Achilles was fire. Achilles was magnetic. He was a burning star, and he was his. Patroclus felt a shameful amount of pride that it was  _ him  _ of Achilles’ arm at events. It was him wearing a matching custom-made givenchy suit. It was him that Achilles cited as inspiration for his last love song. It was him, at the center of everything Achilles did, just as Achilles was not at the center of everything he did. Achilles was at the peak of his stardom and the center of everything, but all he cared about was  _ Patroclus.  _

_ Patroclus.  _

_ Pat-ro-clus.  _

_ Patroclus.  _

“Patroclus,” he would whisper in his ear in the morning before pressing a kiss into the shell of his ear. 

“Patroclus,” he would say in his sleep time and time again. His brow would be knit as if he were having a nightmare, and all Patroclus would have to do to sooth him would be to run his thumb over his brow and whisper Achilles’ name back to him. Achilles’ face would relax instantly, and he would roll his body closer to Patroclus.

“Patroclus,” he would murmur in private moments, the way he said his name more like a title of affection-- a secret shared between lovers-- than anything. 

Patroclus. Patroclus. Patroclus. 

Patroclus had never been one to crave attention, at least not in a way he would ever admit to himself. He had never been one to demand someone’s affection, or take up someone’s time. He had never been one to ask something of someone simply because he knew they would say yes. That had always been Alexandros. Alexandros had been the center of their relationship: the burning star, the one in need of constant affection, the one that got everything. 

Maybe it was because Achilles got enough attention from everyone else in his life, that he didn’t need Patroclus to worship him like they did. Maybe Patroclus already worshiped Achilles, so whatever Achilles expected of him came to him so naturally he didn’t have to think about it. Or maybe, for the first time in Patroclus’ life, he was happy. 

If Alexandros were a tidal wave, then Achilles was an ocean. And for the first time in Patroclus’ life, he didn’t mind drowning.  

 

***

 

They were at dinner, the same rundown gyro place they first went to together, to celebrate their two month anniversary. It seemed unreal to Patroclus-- their time together seemed like both an eternity and no time at all had passed between them. 

“If I weren’t so sentimental I would have taken you somewhere nicer.” Achilles said between dinner and dessert.

Patroclus smiled at that. If there was an unintended jab in what Achilles had just said, he was content enough to ignore it. Theo and his son had tried their best to make the meal nice for them: the best wine they had, string lights around the ceiling, and their a table in the center of the restaurant. 

The candle between them warmed Achilles’ already inviting features. It was his own social tact and dislike of public displays of affection alone that kept Patroclus from leaning across the table and kissing Achilles breathless. He did allow himself to grab Achilles by the name and kiss his palm. 

Achilles smiled down at him as he did it with such a type of affection so evident Patroclus grew warm. 

“Do you really have to go on a year long tour?” He pouted. He knew it was a petelunt thing to do, and he knew that he was playing with fire because, if he asked, Achilles would no doubt call the whole thing off. 

“In a way it’s your own fault. If you hadn’t inspired me to write enough songs for them to get a studio album, there would be no promotional tour for that album.” Achilles pulled his, and Patroclus still attached, hand towards him. He ran his thumb in circles across Patroclus’ wrist, and the govial smile he was wearing fell. “I can call it off it you’d like.” 

Patroclus smiled, somewhat to himself but mainly to Achilles, and said a simple: “no”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” Patroclus looked down at his lap, his smile still evident. “The last thing I need is half the world out to kill me, simply because I’m selfish and want you all to myself.”

“I hardly doubt half the world,” Achilles said like everything in life was so simple. Patroclus realized that, for him, it must have been. If things were different between them, if they were friends and not lovers or if the fire that burning inside Patroclus’ chest were not so ablaze, he would have felt a deep resentment at Achilles for having had such a painless existence. Achilles spoke again before he could think further on it: “Mother would be mad, of course, but that’s all.”

“That’s all? Achilles your tour has over 15 stops worldwide,  _ and _ the tour sold out within  _ nine seconds _ . I think you would owe your fans a bit of an explanation too.” 

Achilles mirrored the same pout that Patroclus had pulled early, only instead of looking like a child Achilles managed to make himself look like a kicked dog. 

“Well,” his pout turned into a full out frown, no doubt because he assumed that he already knew the answer to his question. “Why don’t you just come on tour with me then?” 

“And what? Quit my job? How would I be able to take care of myself then?” 

“I would take care of you, of course, or I could even help you find another job. You know if you moved in with me there are, like, a million libraries in the city.” 

“Three, Achilles, there are three.” Patroclus smiled across from him. He tried his best to keep his tone light as he asked: “so in this ideal future you’ve planned out: I quit my job, move in with you, and you take care of me for the rest of my life?” 

“Something like that.” Achilles said, and moved his hands to that their fingers were now intertwined. “There’s a marriage in the mix there too, if I’m honest.” 

Anxiety bubbled under Patroclus’ skin, starting from his chest and spreading across his whole body until toes tingle and his head went fuzzy. He tried to keep his hands from shaking or his voice from cracking when he smiled at Achilles and said, in as casual a manner as he could muster: “okay.” 

Achilles’ expression changed about a million times within the span of a millisecond. “O-okay like yes? Yes you want--? Is that what you?” Achilles stumbled through. 

It was the most ineloquent Patroclus had ever seen him, and he felt a small sense of pride shine inside of him as his earlier panic started to fade away. 

“Yes, Achilles.” He said, and he couldn’t contain his smile. “I want to move in with you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hoped you liked it. i apologize for any errors. Much like Ernest Hemingway once said "write drunk and edit sober" I write sleep deprived and edit sleep deprived. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading and i hope you have a wonderful day! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so much for reading this! i love you all and i hope you all have wonderful days! <3
> 
> i want to give a big thanks to ashley (@ladyartemace) and jamie (@flamingmatches) on tumblr for supporting this story and prereading it and helping me flesh out the idea! <3 
> 
> part ii will be out.......eventually. maybe leave me a comment to let me know what you think? <3


End file.
